Our Turbulent Sea of Peace
by Seven Thousand
Summary: Historical AU. Kiku Honda is a young Japanese immigrant to the United States. Alfred F. Jones is his best friend. It is December, 1941. As their world crumbles around them, will their friendship survive?
1. Prologue: Before We Fall

Authors' Note: As you might notice, the "Authors'" in "Authors' Note" is plural. That is not a typo, it is intentional. This is a collaborative project between SeraSearaSpin and A Field of Starlight.

_Hi! A Field of Starlight here. My friend and I have decided to write a story together! This underlined/italicized script means I'm the one talking. Or, rather, typing._

**And then there's me, SeraSearaSpin! *waves* I get to be bold because bold is just awesome like that. (**_Hey!_**)Woo! So, enough of us, onwards, young chilliblain!**

**I actually don't know what a chilliblain is. I don't think it's a word. I don't even know if any of you are young or not. OLD PEOPLE EVERYWHERE HIDE YOUR KIDS HIDE - *ahem* So.**

_Um... Anywho... On to the story!_

* * *

Prologue: Before we fall

* * *

_Autumn 1929_

"Hey, who are you?"

The 7-year old Japanese boy turned, startled by the sudden intrusion into his corner of the playground.

"K-Kiku..."

"Hi Kiku! I'm Alfred! Wanna be friends?"

"A-ano... hai?"

"Hi? But I said hi already. I asked if you wanted to be friends! Do you?" Alfred jumped up and down excitedly.

"Hai... hai mean yes."

"Huh? 'Hi' means 'yes'? Well, if you say so... Come on, let's go play on the swings!"

The jubilant young American ran off, dragging Kiku along behind him.

* * *

After that first day, their friendship bloomed. After finding out that his friend's English wasn't very good, Alfred took it on himself to teach Kiku. This was made easier by the fact that they lived only a street away from each other. Soon they were sharing everything together.

When they were 10, Alfred officially introduced Kiku to his twin, Matthew, their older brother and caretaker, Arthur, and their cousin, Francis.

* * *

"Hey, Arthur, Mattie, I'm home! I brought my friend Kiku!"

"The one you always talk about at dinner?" Arthur replied huffily, emerging from the living room.

"Hello Kiku. I'm Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kiku smiled and took the offered hand. "Konnichiwa. Are you Alfred's father?"

Arthur burst out laughing. "No, no! I'm his older brother. Matthew!" he called up the stairs. "Come greet the guest!"

Kiku used the distraction to turn quizzically to Alfred. He didn't even have to ask the question before the American boy replied.

"It's... complicated. See, Arthur is actually me and Mattie's half brother. He's 15 years older than us. Mom divorced his dad when he was 10, and they moved here from England. Me and Mattie, our dad was in an accident when we were 3, and Mom died giving birth to us."

"Oh... I'm so sorry, Alfred-kun..." Kiku said, slightly shocked.

"Oh, it's fine. So anyways, we just live with Arthur. Oh, and Francis. He's our cousin from France. Here he comes now! Hey, Francis!"

"Ohonhonhon~! Ah, so this is Kiku! Very pleased to meet you, mon cher! Francis Bonnefoy, at your service!" He tried to offer his hand for a handshake, but couldn't as he was carrying Matthew over his shoulder. The boy was squirming.

"F-Francis!" he protested. "Put me down!"

"OK!"

"Maple- Ow! Francis!" Francis had dropped Matthew on the ground unceremoniously.

"Francis! What have I said about throwing the boys around? Bloody frog..." Arthur scolded as he dragged Francis towards the kitchen. "And we need to cook our supper!"

Faint sounds of arguing were heard as they disappeared into another part of the house.

Kiku blinked.

"Um... hi... I'm Matthew..." Matthew said shyly after his brother and cousin left.

"Oh! Konnichiwa, Matthew-kun. I'm Kiku."

"Mattie here is actually Canadian!" Alfred decided to randomly exclaim. "That's why he says maple all the time. And is addicted to maple syrup."

"A-Al! I'm not addicted!"

"Suuuurreee," Alfred said, rolling his eyes and laughing. Matthew frowned and pushed him.

"Hey!"

"Um... Matthew-kun? Why-"

"Why am I Canadian? Uh... well, our mom was, and she... she kinda wanted one of us to have her nationality and last name... It was one of the things she insisted on before having us."

"So... you're last name isn't Jones?" Kiku asked.

"Nope. It's Williams." Matthew smiled. "Arthur has a different last name, too, since he has a different father."

By the end of the night, Kiku's head was spinning. As they settled down for their sleepover, Kiku sighed.

"You have a complicated family, Alfred-kun."

"Yep!"

* * *

Kiku, in turn, introduced him to his adopted family. They found that their brothers, Arthur and Yao, worked together, and Alfred immediately became friends with Kiku's younger brother, Yong Soo. Kaoru and Mei, only 6 and 7 years of age, soon regarded Alfred in the same way they regarded Kiku: as a beloved big brother.

* * *

"Nii-san! I'm home! This is Alfred."

"Ah, Alfred! I'm Kiku's older brother, Wang Yao, aru. Come, come, make yourself at home. Would you like some tea, aru?"

"Yes please, Mr. Yao!" He took a sip from the cup he was handed. "Hey, this is the same tea that Arthur drinks!"

"Just call me Yao, aru. And did you say Arthur?"

"Yep! Arthur Kirkland, my older brother!" Alfred smiled, slurping at the tea.

Yao looked bewildered. "Arthur is your brother, aru? I... He's my co-worker."

"Really? That's so cool!" Alfred exclaimed. "Kiku, that's awesome, isn't it!"

"Uh... hai..."

Then someone slammed into the couch they were sitting on.

"ANIKI!"

Said person was followed by two other giggling children, who both jumped on Kiku. "Ge ge! Ge ge!"

"Ah... Alfred-kun, meet my siblings. Yong-Soo-" He gestured at the hyperactive child with a random hair curl.

"Annyeonghaseyo, da ze!" Yong Soo said, a giant grin on his face.

"-Kaoru-"

"Ni hao," the boy deadpanned.

"-and Mei."

"Ni hao!" Mei smiled brightly at Alfred.

"Hi!" he replied, smiling back. Then he frowned. "Wait... Isn't 'ni hao' Chinese?"

"Yes," Kaoru says simply.

"We're Chinese! Well, I'm Taiwanese... But I still speak Chinese!" Mei piped up.

"But... Kiku is Japanese... Right?" Alfred turns to his friend, who sighed.

"Hai. Yao, Mei, and Kaoru are family, but Yong Soo and I are adopted, him from Korea and me from Japan. Yao's family also moved around a lot before coming here, so the three of them were all born in different places."

"Cool! And you said my family was complicated!" Alfred laughed, nudging Kiku in the ribs. The Japanese boy cracked a small smile.

"I suppose that wasn't very fair of me, was it?"

* * *

The two boys stuck together, always, never separating for more than a month at a time, and that was only when they went on vacations. They shared almost all of their memories of growing up, and lived in happiness for a few more years. Then, 1941 rolled around.

And that is where our story begins.

* * *

Authors' Note: **WAAAAVE AT THE PEOPLE! :D**

_So, I hope you enjoyed this prologue! This is probably the most cheerful this story will ever get, so be warned! The good stuff (read: angst) shall come soon!_

**Greetings, humanoids! So, yeah, that was the cheerful part, probably. No icky ships, because evil romance, and enjoy the story! Don't forget to review! :D**


	2. Two Bad Things

Authors' Note: _Hey everyone! So, I just wanted to say, for anyone who was confused, Mei is Taiwan and Kaoru is Hong Kong._

**I know some people call HK 'Sterling' or something along the lines of that, but I just find that weird. I saw Kaoru somewhere and it stuck. And with a flourish *flourishes* , I present the next chapter.**

* * *

Chapter 1: Two Bad Things

* * *

_December 7, 1941_

There was something wrong.

That was the first thing Kiku thought as he woke up that morning. He frowned. What could have made him think that?

Better not to think about it, he decided. Alfred had invited him over for lunch, and he wasn't about to pass up Francis's delicious cooking. (Although Arthur's.. cooking was rather...interesting... He hoped Arthur would avoid the kitchen.)

He quickly got up, going through his morning ritual (brush teeth, shower, change) then headed down to breakfast.

Immediately, he was jumped on by Yong Soo.

"Aniki! Have you seen my kimchi? Yao-hyeong couldn't find it!" Yong Soo looked positively distressed.

"Yong Soo, you're 18 years old. You can find it on your own. And since when did you eat kimchi for breakfast?" Kiku chastised gently.

"Since last week, da ze!" Yong Soo skipped over to the pantry, pulling the door open. "Ah, there it is, da ze! Huh, I thought I put it in the refrigerator..."

Kiku sighed and went over to the stove and scooped some plain rice congee from the pot, then sat down beside Yao. They ate in companionable silence for a while, before Yong Soo came back to finish his meal (with the kimchi). Soon, Kaoru and Mei came down and the five of them enjoyed a nice, peaceful breakfast.

It was to be one of their last.

After their breakfast, Kiku started to do the dishes while Yao shooed Kaoru and Mei upstairs to finish their homework. He tried to make Yong Soo do the same, but the Korean just ignored him and headed over to the living room.

Yao sighed. "That boy has to stop watching so much television, aru. His grades are going to suffer!"

"They are okay as of now, nii-san. He hasn't gotten a B since the last quarter of his junior year," Kiku responded.

"Yes, but you never got any B's, aru!"

"That may be the case, but-" Kiku was suddenly cut off by Yong Soo's scream.

Yao bolted upwards and ran into the living room, Kiku not far behind him. Above them, Kaoru and Mei emerged from their rooms and came down the stairs curiously.

What they saw shocked them all.

"... reports that the bombings have not stopped. I repeat, the Japanese attack has not stopped, and bombs are still dropping on Pearl Harbor as our military fights..."

All eyes in the room turned to Kiku, who had to prop himself up against the wall to keep himself from falling. His face was completely white, and his dark brown eyes stared out from under his bangs in incomprehension.

"No..."

Yao quickly rushed over to his younger brother's side, helping him to the couch. "Kiku? Kiku, aru, talk to me! Kiku!"

But Kiku merely turned those blank, dull eyes on him and did not respond.

"Kiku, aru! Kiku, get yourself together, Kiku- ARGH!" Yao suddenly launched himself off the couch in fury, scaring his other siblings.

"We came here to stay away from this, aru! To get away from the fighting and the tension and the fear and... and... but... why did it have to come back?" Yao's voice dropped to a whisper. "Why can't we just live in peace?"

"Yao-hyeong?" Yong Soo asked cautiously.

"I... I never told you, but that is why our parents sent us to America, aru. To protect our family from the war brewing in Asia... and now it's here." Yao shook his head, then smiled bleakly. "I guess there is no way to escape our fate..."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and both Mei and Kaoru ran off to get it. They came back with Alfred in tow.

"Oh, no... Kiku!" Alfred immediately dropped to his knees in front of his friend. "Kiku, talk to me!"

Kiku lifted his gaze, a spark of recognition lighting those blank eyes. "A-Alfred-kun?"

"Yeah, Kiku, it's me. I'm here."

"No... NO!" Kiku suddenly used all of his strength to push Alfred away. "No, leave, Alfred-kun! Don't stay here!"

"What? What are you saying, Kiku? Why would I leave? I'm your friend!" Alfred said, confused and a bit hurt.

"I do not deserve to have you as a friend anymore." Kiku turned away, curling in on himself.

"No! No, Kiku, what happened wasn't your fault, you can't blame yourself for it! Kiku, please!" Alfred pleaded. But Kiku would not turn around to face him.

A soft hand landed on the American's shoulder, and he looked up to see Yao, who just shook his head.

"It is better to leave, aru. Come back tomorrow," the Chinese man said gently.

"Yeah... yeah, I'll do that..." Alfred stood up sadly, then walked over to the door. Then he turned back.

"Kiku..."

"Leave."

And Alfred could only follow that command. He left, not seeing Kiku's tear-stained face. Not seeing him bury his head in his arms. Not there to comfort his best friend in the entire universe.

He wasn't there to hear those words.

"It's better this way."

...

But that was only the first bad thing that happened.

* * *

It was a week later when the second bad thing happened.

The weather was cold and drizzly, the sky thick with clouds. A harsh, bone-chilling wind ruffled their hair. Small drops of water blew into their faces.

Alfred was walking with Kiku, having finally coaxed him out of the house, trying to cheer him up. "C'mon, man, you can't go around moping like this the entire time. You gotta get out there and seize life, ya know?"

But Kiku just kept his head down, staring at the ground.

Alfred had his own guilt to disguise. Even though we were at war, why did it have to happen this way? He'd seen the clips of the aftermath, and it still made him cringe inside. How could our nations do this?

He knew the answer was war. War was an angry beast, a tornado, a maelstrom, and the opposing sides just the flotsam that got caught up it. _War._ And it had just barely begun. Francis remembered the first World War. In fact, he had been forced to serve in it. Talking about it made his face go pale, and it upset him, so they didn't talk about it. And now he was at war with his best friend's country, as well as Italy and Germany to go through and all the other places.

He groaned deep in his throat. _Ugh._

Since Kiku didn't feel like talking, the trip was full of uncomfortable silences as each considered their own thoughts. They finally reached the street to their houses.

That was when things started to go downhill.

A group of people was leaning against the bricks, and they sneered at the two easy marks coming down the road. Alfred stopped walking, throwing an arm out to stop Kiku as well. "We don't want any trouble," he said firmly, and the tallest thug -the leader, he assumed- bared his dirty teeth in a grin.

"Well, trouble's comin' to ya, whether you like it or not."

"Listen, you don't want to bother us." Alfred kept his voice steady.

"And who's gonna back you up? That Jap? Puh!" he scoffed. "He looks scrawny to me. Don't look strong enough to even deal us a good blow. A kitten scratch!" The men behind him laughed, and encouraged by it, the leader stepped into Kiku's personal space.

"Punch me. I dare you." When Kiku didn't move, he smirked. "That's what I thought. Yellow-bellied chicken, just like the rest of your stupid country." He punched the Japanese man in the face so hard he was knocked to the ground. A bruise blossomed on his cheekbone as he groaned and sat up.

Alfred stepped up to defend his friend, anger clearly evident in his voice. "Well, I'm more than enough trouble by myself!"

The leader snarled. "Get 'im, boys."

Three of them suddenly charged him. In an evasive maneuver, he sidestepped the attack and drove his knee up into the solar plexus of one. He fell to the ground, gasping. With no time to lose, Alfred spun around, blocking the fist flying towards his face and shoving the second man away from him, towards Kiku, who promptly punched him in the eye. The third barreled into Al and knocked him back against the brick wall, the breath flying out of him. "Get off of me, ya filthy bilge rat!" snarled the American in a frosty tone that copied Arthur's. "I just got my clothes cleaned!" He suddenly jerked to the side, flinging the man off, and swung him into the wall as he was still regaining his feet. His head cracked loudly against the brickwork.

Alfred was feeling pretty good about himself until the leader scowled and said "All at once, boys!"

He found himself mobbed, with barely enough room to swing his fists. When he did manage a good swing, his fist was caught, and he couldn't extricate himself. He looked over to see Kiku held in the same manner. "You'se ain't goin' nowhere, sonny boy." A hot, foul breath hissed in his ear.

The leader smirked and drew a knife, pressing it to Alfred's throat in a swift motion. The blonde's heart raced. _Am I about to die?_

"Gimme your money, Jap, or blondie here gets it." He pressed the knife hard against Alfred's throat for good measure. A thin red line opened up, and warm blood trickled down his collarbone. When Kiku didn't move, still in shock, he shoved harder. Alfred sucked in his breath at the pain.

As Kiku frantically began turning his pockets inside out, a resounding clang echoed through the space. The man holding Alfred swayed, a confused look on his face, before collapsing. Alfred quickly stepped away from the knife, grabbing the knife-hand and pointing it away from himself for good measure. Everyone looked up to see Yao on the stairs above them, brandishing a wok he'd apparently just used to bash the man's brains in.

"Nobody messes with my family and gets away with it, aru." His tone of voice brooked no argument. The men reluctantly backed off, the leader giving Alfred a nasty look before slinking away.

Since none of the three were looking, none of them saw the shadow at the end of the street that handed the gang leader a wad of bills.

"Thanks," gasped Alfred. Kiku's face had returned to its unreadable state plus the dark bruise swelling up half of it, and it was up to Yao to ask "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," said the American, who was still catching his breath."That knife didn't look too clean, though." They all knew the dangers of infection, and how hard it was to treat these days.

"Here, come in for a moment and I'll clean it off for you, aru." Alfred bounced up the stairs, his normal vivacity returned for the moment. At the top of the stairs, before he went inside, he turned around to see Yao grab his younger brother in a crushing embrace. "I'm glad you're okay, aru," he sighed. Then he let go and started to talk to Kiku in Chinese.

Since Alfred didn't understand Chinese, he went inside, not sensing that it was a private moment. He was bad with sensing the atmosphere.

A rough translation of the hushed, rapid (and rather one-sided) conversation outside was like this.

"Kiku, are you all right? That bruise looks painful." Yao brought up two fingers to touch the big bruise, and the Japanese man flinched.

"Come inside, I need to put ice on it."

"No," said Kiku softly, staring at the ground. "I deserved this."

Yao put his hands on his brother's shoulders and stared intently into his eyes. "Di di, stop blaming yourself. You were not the one who bombed Pearl Harbor that day. You don't 'deserve' this. You didn't even know that it was going to happen. Stop blaming yourself."

When Kiku didn't respond to this, aside from lowering his eyes, Yao sighed and said, in English, "Come inside, I need to put ice on your face, aru."

Kiku silently stepped up the stairs and into the house, where Mei (who was cooking something in the kitchen) stared at the bruise. Alfred was soaking a rag in the sink to press it to the already-scabbing-over wound on his neck.

"Are you all right, Kiku?" Her dark brown eyes stared into his, daring him to nod. She knew he wasn't all right. She also knew he'd never let on about what he was thinking.

Kiku went to the freezer and scooped up some ice to put in a bag while Yao went over to Alfred to help him clean his neck, since he seemed to be having trouble. His hands felt weak and they kept shaking, probably due to delayed shock.

Once he was finished, the Chinese man said "I think you should go home, aru. Arthur and Francis are probably worried about you. However, you're welcome to stay for dinner if you like, aru."

Alfred considered. "Well, I think Francis is cooking tonight, and he always makes some of the most delicious foods, so I think I'll pass on your offer. Thanks, though!"

He looked at Kiku. "See you tomorrow?"

For the longest time, Kiku didn't do anything. Then he imperceptibly nodded his head.

* * *

At dinner that night, Alfred ate surprisingly little of Francis' food.

"Are you all right, Alfred?" Arthur's face was knotted with concern. "I could make you something if this frog's food doesn't agree with you."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," said Alfred, waving off his concerns good-naturedly and a bit hurriedly. "My throat hurts a bit. It's nothing."

Francis reached over anyway and felt his forehead. "You feel hot. Are you sure-"

"I'm _fine_," said Alfred again, a bit more forcefully. To change the subject, he asked, "Where's Mattie?"

Francis smiled. "He's staying at a friend's house."

Alfred smirked. "This friend is a _girl_, isn't it."

Francis smiled wider, and that told Alfred everything. The American burst into wild laughter that predictably turned into coughs. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Ah," said Alfred. "I laughed so hard I ran out of breath and now my head hurts. ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!" He went back to poking at his food, and was strangely silent until he could be excused. His face was twitching.

About an hour later, there was a loud crash from upstairs. Both Francis and Arthur ran to the base of the stairs. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Fine!" came the faint response. "I just dropped the lamp when I was replacing the light bulb. Nothing broke!" To which his guardians subsided back into the living room, watching the news of the war.

Alfred didn't mention that he'd dropped it because his arms were shaking too much to hold it straight, or that it was extremely painful to open his mouth wide enough to talk.

When Arthur poked his head in to bid his younger brother a good night, he almost screamed in horror. Alfred was laying on his bed, like any normal night, but that was where the similarities ended.

His younger brother's back was arched in what looked like a painful manner, and he was breathing, no, _wheezing_ in a deep rasp that rattled in his chest. Since Alfred slept shirtless, Arthur could see all the muscles and tendons corded out. Sweat poured off his body. As he watched, his brother suddenly fell limp in a manner that reminded him of nothing so much as a stretched rubber band, suddenly cut.

He took a couple steps back and steadied himself on the wall. "Francis?" he called in a thin voice. "Francis?"

The Frenchman came to the bottom of the stairs. "Oui?"

"Call the hospital. There's something wrong with Alfred."

* * *

Authors' Note:

Some translations: (we forgot these last time...)

Di di = younger brother (Chinese)

Hyeong = older brother (Korean)

Aniki/nii-san = older brother (Japanese, but you knew that already :P)

Ge ge = older brother (Chinese)

Oui - yes (French, but you also knew that already)

_I'd just like to say, contrary to popular (or rather, Japanese) belief, Chinese people don't say 'aru' at the end of everything. I would know. I'm Chinese. Well, Chinese-American..._

**I'm also able to speak Chinese, being half Taiwanese myself, but Field is much, much better at it. Saying -aru would get really annoying really fast. "Oh, I'm thirsty, aru." "Oh, I'm tired, aru." "Oh, my hovercraft is full of eels, aru."** (_What?_) **Nobody really says -aru. Except China-cosplayers and China. And me when I'm annoying my sister. However, since neither of us are Korean, we can't accurately say if Koreans say 'da ze' or not.**

_Yep. Although most likely not, as none of our Korean friends say 'da ze'. So Yao doesn't say 'aru' in his Chinese speech. However, English is fair game, because we can pass it off as a random verbal tic. XD_

**Oh, and the disease that Alfred ended up catching normally takes around eight days to show itself. I modified it a lot, and it doesn't actually work quite like that. Plus, I'm not sure if half the treatments for it even existed back then. But we're making modifications to everything, so that's okay. If you correctly guess what disease it is, I'll give you a cookie! :D**

_Just a word of warning, we're screwing around with history. A lot. So don't use this to study for your history exams! :P_

_Reviews are appreciated!_


	3. Mad Rush

Chapter 2: Mad Rush

* * *

Kiku and his family were woken rather rudely around midnight by a loud siren and red and blue lights flashing through their half-curtained windows. The sound only increased as an ambulance swerved around the corner, nearly fishtailing into a wall before righting itself and driving past their house.

Now standing by the window, Kaoru craned his neck to look further down the street. "It looks like it stopped at Alfred's house," he said, his voice containing a note of worry. That in itself roused the others enough to run to the windows as well.

"Are they all right?" asked Yao. "I can't tell," replied Mei. "Going outside to look originated in me, da-ze!" Yong Soo ran to the door and fiddled with the lock.

Kiku flew past him and unlatched the door with surprising speed, running half down the street in his haste. "Alfred!" he cried, skidding to a stop at the door as two paramedics carried a body out on a stretcher.

"Who is it? Is he okay?" panted the Japanese man, forgetting all sense of decorum. Light fell on the body's face, and his heart sank. It was his best friend, looking pale and infirm under the medical blankets. As he watched, he suddenly strained upwards, muscles and veins standing out in sharp relief, and his breath hissed deep in his throat, held back only by the restraining straps cutting into him. "What's wrong with him?"

"They wouldn't tell us, either." Arthur's face looked deeply lined in the flashing lights. "But at least they're going to let me go with them. They won't let Francis come because he's not 'related enough'." The Brit made quotation marks with his fingers while scowling.

Kiku looked up at him, silhouetted in the dim light. "Do you think they'd let me come?"

Arthur made an ambiguous gesture. "I hope so. He'd want you to be there."

That had an ominous ring to it. Kiku turned to one of the paramedics and tugged her sleeve. "Ah, excuse me," - he paused to read her nametag, which only had her last name- "Grindstaff-san?"

She turned to look at him. "Just call me Emily."

"Ah...Emily? Could I possibly go with my friend to the hospital…?"

She slid her end of the stretcher on the back of the open ambulance. "What's your relation to him?"

"He's my best friend," said Kiku quietly.

Emily wrinkled her face up. "If you're not related to him, you can't ride in the ambulance. However, I can make an exception for you, since you obviously care so much…What's your name?"

"Kiku. Kiku Honda."

She paused to scribble something down on a piece of paper. "Here. This should allow you to come in to see him later, in the morning."_ If he lives._

Kiku heard the unspoken addition to the sentence and looked up at her. "But Emily, I have to come now! He needs me!"

Emily sighed. "Look, hon, I've done everything I can for you, and I'll do everything I can for him, but I can't give you permission to ride in the back."

"Then...then…" Kiku was grasping at straws. "Then I can grab onto the roof! I can hold on tight! You don't have to worry about me!"

"That won't-"

"Or I could squeeze in the corner! I'm small! I could fit!"

Emily put a hand on his shoulder, halting his flow of words. "Listen to me. I know that you want to come with him, and if it were up to me, I'd let you, as well as his French cousin, but it's not up to me. It's up to my boss, and he won't be all that happy about me writing you a pass to see him, either." She softened at the look on his face. "Sorry, hon. The ambulance simply isn't big enough."

She turned away from him. "Jackson, Ewell, time to go if we're to get to the hospital in time."

And suddenly the doors were closed and Alfred was strapped in with a tube going into his arm and Arthur was with him and the ambulance was already screeching down the road, lights and siren wailing, and he was left behind in the dust, staring after it.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Francis behind him, with tears in his eyes. "Would you like to come in?" asked the blonde. "Arthur'd just finished making a nice pot of tea."

Though the Brit wasn't skilled in the culinary arts, he could certainly make a mean cup of tea. Kiku was sorely tempted to accept the Frenchman's offer. Except…

"Arigato, Francis-san," he panted as he burst free of the other's grasp, sprinting down the road and past his confused family._ I have other things to do._

He didn't know where the hospital was, but the lights reflecting off the windows clued him in on which way to turn. He twisted left, his feet pounding the asphalt, egging himself onwards. Already he was flagging. He wasn't the big sportsman of the friendship. That duty fell to Alfred, who could play any sport with relative ease.

As he gained speed, he saw the back of the ambulance before it disappeared down the road and pushed himself even harder, his soles drumming out an even tattoo on the black road, shoving the ground harder and harder as if the next step would make him airborne but instead bleeding, leaving bloody footprints behind him to glisten in the yellow glow of the street lamps and his vision started blurring as the ambulance turned and drove on a road parallel to a river he couldn't remember the name of right now but that was okay it didn't matter all that there was was running, put one foot in front of the other and do it again and again and move forwards and the blur of noise and sound as he passed by a bar spilling raucous cries out into the stillness of the night, and a partially empty bottle captured for an instant before shattering on the road behind him and the cry of "Stupid Jap!" that hung in the air that he deserved but meant nothing in this focus, this rush of speed, and he had to catch the ambulance he had to see if his friend was okay but he was tiring, unable to get enough air in his throat but no, no, run faster and faster until you can fly, an angel on the wing as he soared beneath the stars, and no,_ no_,_ NO_, the ambulance is gone, the blue and red light no longer visible, and though he flew higher and farther and faster he couldn't see it anymore in the web of streets and he had to come back to earth, slow down, battered soles protesting their abuse and the angel could no longer fly and the rhythm slowing, falling unevenly until _slap_, _slap_, no more steps, and Kiku fell to his knees in despair in the middle of the darkened road.

_I've lost him. He wanted me to be there and I failed him. I don't deserve to be his friend…_

Through his paroxysm of misery, he looked up through blurred vision and saw a silenced ambulance, right in front of the hospital, the doors still hanging open. Light blared out through the lobby windows.

Kiku straightened up. _Oh. That hospital._

He burst through the lobby doors in a whirlwind of desperation and cool air. Ignoring the stares from the other patients at his disheveled state, he waved Emily's note, which he'd somehow kept in all the frenzy. "I'm here," he gasped out, the started coughing and started again. "I'm here to see a patient by the name of Alfred F. Jones."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at the reddish-brown footprints he left on the floor. "And who might you be, young man?"

"I'm his…" Remembering Emily's reaction to when he said he wasn't related, he quickly modified his answer. "-his brother."

The receptionist raised her eyebrow higher. "Really now."

Kiku nodded rapidly, pasting a bright smile onto his face. "We're really close!" he said with a fake little laugh.

"Dear, I'm going to need to see some identification papers-" Because you don't look anything like him. Because you're a Japanese man. Because it's your fault.

Kiku closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm adopted, okay?" he lied. "If you could just let me see my brother-"

The receptionist squinted at the note over the tops of her horn-rimmed glasses before raising her eyebrow higher than Kiku thought was physically possible. "This note here is for a 'Kiku Honda'. Honda and Jones are two completely different-"

"Honda is my middle name," babbled Kiku as he quickly fashioned another lie. "My full name is Kiku Honda Jones, because my mother knew me and named me 'Kiku', and her last name was 'Honda', but when I was adopted, they changed it to-"

The receptionist shifted her gaze to him and cut him off. "S'fantastic, dear. But I'm going to need real identification papers-"

"I don't have them, I left them at home when they took him away, and then I ran here."

She looked at his feet. They were filthy and covered with scratches and dried blood. "I see. But protocol requires that-"

Kiku couldn't take this any longer. He had to go see his friend, just in case Alfred was-

He took off running again, the receptionist shouting "Stop him! That Japanese boy! Security!"

The still-bleeding scabs on his feet strained as he was once again running, breath coming in ragged gasps. He was out of breath and his muscles were exhausted. The security guards, on the other hand, were fresh and energetic. Surely they would overtake him quickly. He didn't even know where he was going.

Kiku skidded round the corner and nearly crashed into a woman dressed in greenish hospital scrubs. Only a quick stumble saved him a painful collision. She cast a startled look in his direction, then squeaked and flattened herself against the wall as the security guards in their dark blue uniforms barrelled past. He heard one of them stop and apologize to her as the rest were gaining.

There were signs on the wall that led to the ER quadrant, white text on red backing. Without much of a plan in mind, he followed them, arriving in a waiting room scant seconds ahead of the guards. The glum and anxious people there spun to look at him. Looking around frantically and seeing no adjoining halls aside from one, he took a few steps towards it, and then turned and dove for a seat.

The guards trampled in a moment later, and, not seeing their Japanese prey, ran onwards. After a moment, Kiku peeked above the magazine he held close to his face, and seeing no sign, stealthily crept to his feet. Everyone stared at him. "Patient Jones?" he rasped hoarsely, still having not caught his breath. The man behind the desk, stunned, lifted a hand in the direction the guards had gone. "Room 2112A."

"Thank you." Kiku offered a slight bend of a bow before slipping down the indicated direction. Only after he'd taken several steps down the white, bleach-scented hall did he wonder if the man was leading into a trap.

He scanned the walls for 2112A. _Alfred...where are you?_ And just as he thought that, the security guards at the end of the hall turned around. "Hey, isn't that-"

Kiku ran._ 1112, 1114, 1116…_I must be on the wrong floor. A stairwell jutted up to his left, and he ran up it in seven large bounds._ 2120, 2122_… He reversed direction in a skid that stung the soles of his feet and more likely than not, scattered garnets across the floor behind him. The numbers started decreasing, and suddenly he was there- 2112. He skewed in.

And there was Alfred, lying pale and infirm, with a drip or two into his arm, but his eyes were open, his glasses neatly folded on the table next to him. But as he neared his friend, he realized that they were unfocused and glazed over. Alfred was still unconscious. His heart sank.

Arthur was worriedly standing over him and pacing back and forth. His eyes barely registered Kiku's arrival for a moment, before springing forwards and enfolding him in a hug. "I'm glad you made it here," he whispered before stepping back. Kiku opened his mouth to begin to explain the situation to him, but the security guards blundered in and surrounded him. "You're not going to see him without identification papers," said one angrily and out of breath. "Unless you have someone here who can vouch for you that we trust-"

"I can!" Arthur stepped forward. "He is who he says he is."

"Yes!" said Kiku, seeing that Arthur was faltering, not knowing the whole situation. "I am his adopted brother!"

Arthur nodded vigorously. "Yes, he is! We've lived with him for almost fifteen years!"

The security guards exchanged glances and for a moment Kiku feared that they would drag him back to the receptionist with the eyebrows that were even more versatile than Arthur's. Then, to his relief, they shrugged and began filing out, one stopping to tip his hat to the two of them. "Sorry to cause trouble."

Then they were gone, and Kiku was finally by Alfred's bedside. "Is he all right, Arthur-san?"

* * *

A/N:** This was originally meant to be longer, but it became too long and I had to cut it in half. Ooh, and that Emily Grindstaff medical person is based off a real person, who I respect a lot, though she's younger than I am.**

_There are birds in the sky. Yep. Kiku is a wonderful liar, isn't he? Review, please? *puppy dog eyes* _


	4. Hollow Victory

A/N:** Jumping right in from the last chapter.**

_Oh, yeah, we just wanted to make it clear that this story is not intended to ship Ameripan romantically. You can read it that way if you want, I guess, but we didn't intend for there to be romance in this._

* * *

Chapter 3: Hollow Victory

* * *

The Brit's shoulders sagged. "He has tetanus. They say it was a quick-acting, advanced form of it that they haven't seen before. They're hoping that since it took so little time to show symptoms, it will fade just as quickly. This is an IV of…" He frowned. "I don't know what's in it. You can read it on the bag, though."

Kiku stepped closer to his friend, who looked so cold and dead there that only the rise and fall of his chest gave him away-

The near bag was written on with sloppy black marker. "T Immunoglobulin IV/Mg w/Diazepam +Metronidazole IV Fluid…" Kiku read out loud. "Mg is magnesium….but what is the rest?"

"They said that the magnesium and the diazepam were to prevent muscle spasms." Arthur recited bitterly. "They seem to be working. He hasn't had one since they strapped him in."

"And this one is...Vaccine/T antitoxin. That sounds more promising," said Kiku hopefully. _Maybe he'll be well by tomorrow. They did say it was an advanced form, and it might leave him just as quickly…_

Kiku became aware of a mechanical hum and a faint whistle. He focused his gaze on a whirring set of bellows, portable-sized. There was a clear plastic tube stretching from it to….the Japanese man turned, following it around the room with his eyes. It snaked around the base of the walls and then suddenly rose up behind the hospital bed. He bent down to get a better view of it.

It wriggled under thick bandages on his friend's neck. Kiku peeled the wrappings off a bit, ignoring Arthur's protests behind him. He saw the scabbed-over line of the knife blade, and-

There was a hole in his neck. It was carefully smeared with chemicals he could smell from here, and the entire aperture was covered in white surgical tape.

Except for the part where the tube went through. "What is this?" cried Kiku, backing up. "Why is there a hole? He can breathe, can't he?"

Arthur seemed equally shocked. "That can't help him! How can that help him? It's a hole with a pipe in it, and who knows what's in the pipe? It could be air, it could be poisonous vapors. What if the machine's malfunctioning and-"

Overcome with worry, he poked his head outside the room. "Nurse!"

A dark-skinned woman appeared. "What is it? Has his condition changed?" Arthur just beckoned her over. Once she was in the room, he asked, "Why is there a pipe in his neck? What's it doing? W-"

The nurse cut him off. "That, sir, is a tracheotomy. It keeps air circulating throughout his lungs, and he breathes out through his nose and mouth."

"Why is it necessary?" Arthur looked near to tearing his hair out. "Can't he breathe on his own?"

"When the patient-"

"Alfred. His name is Alfred."

"When Alfred experiences the spasms, the position of his back prevents most air from entering his throat. The pipe is here, just in case he experiences another."

"Isn't the IV supposed to prevent that? What's the point of-"

"This is in case it fails. At any rate, it will heal in a matter of days."

Arthur slumped like a balloon with all the air let out. "Okay. Sorry to bother you. I just…"

The nurse nodded in understanding. "It's okay. Many people don't understand how we do what we do." She left the room.

Kiku sat in the chair next to Arthur. There was silence for a while. The Japanese man leaned his head against the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling. _What if Alfred doesn't get better? What if the nurse is wrong? What if the machine malfunctions and he's breathing smoke? What if…_

With a start, he woke to Arthur shaking him. "I think he's waking up," said the older man. "I think…"

Adrenaline filled his veins, all sense of tiredness banished. A glance at the clock on the wall said it was three in the morning. "He's awake?"

They both turned, and Alfred was just starting to sit up, his cornflower blue eyes wide and a little groggy from the drugs. "Where am I?"

He didn't expect both Arthur and Kiku to lunge for him and grip him in a short, but tight, hug. "You're okay!" one or the other said, twin smiles on their faces. "I've got to call Francis." said Arthur suddenly. "He'll be relieved."

While Arthur went down the hall, bubbling with happiness and relief and excitement, Alfred turned to questioning Kiku. "Where am I? Why am I here? How long have I been here? I'm hungry, do you have a burger?"

Ignoring the tirade of questions, Kiku grabbed both his friend's hands and squeezed them tightly. "I thought you were going to die. You looked dead." His relief was still sort of in shock, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes, well, I'm not dead." Alfred smiled, and then let go of Kiku and felt the corners of his mouth. "Hey! It doesn't hurt to talk anymore!" He rubbed his throat, pausing when he felt the tube going into it. "What's this?"

"It's a…" Kiku frowned as he thought of the word. "A...tracheostomy. I think. It lets you breathe in case of seizures."

"Well, I don't need it." He tugged on it, and then winced. "Actually, it does seem pretty useful. In case I'm not fully cured." Kiku offered a little half smile.

He held his hands in front of his face, marvelling at their steadiness. Then he noticed the IVs and frowned, yanking on one. "What are these?"

"Those are keeping you from having a spasm," said Kiku in his typical serious manner. "Don't pull them out!" he said as Alfred went to rip one off him. "You should keep them for a little longer."

Alfred swung his legs out of bed, too late realizing he was only in his boxers. "Help me up. I have a sudden bad feeling. We should get out of here."

Kiku could sympathize. The bad feeling he'd had a week ago came back in his mind. He slung an arm around his friend to help him up. Alfred got a few steps away from the bed until the tracheostomy pipe pulled him back. "I guess I'm stuck in this place for now."

Kiku belatedly answered his friend's questions. "You're in the hospital and it's three ten in the morning. You've been here for about...three and a half hours maybe?"

Arthur came back in, the smile on his face lighting up the room. "Francis is on his way," he said, and then surrounded his younger brother with a hug again. The nurse followed after. "I've never seen anyone recover this fast!" she exclaimed.

The nurse -the name printed on the tag was Delilah Barnes- ran through the normal medical checkup stuff. His heart rate was checked, lights were shone in his eyes, and he was asked random questions, like "Who's the president now?" _(Roosevelt.)_ "How many fingers am I holding up?" _(Three!) [No, I'm holding up five, Alfred.] (But those two are pinkies and thumbs, as compared to pointer finger, middle finger, and-) [All right, Alfred, I believe you've made your point.]_ The nurse scribbled information on the clipboard that was normally hanging off the end of the bed. Francis showed up halfway through these tests, and after the round of hugs and kisses, the tests continued. Finally, he was proclaimed fit.

"You can go home at noon tomorrow," the nurse informed him, smiling, and everyone in the room cheered. "You just have to fill out this paperwork-"

Alfred quickly read over the one-page contract, slipping his glasses onto his face, and then, with a flourish, signed the paper. "I'm coming home tomorrow~!" And he was swamped in hugs.

The nurse went to deliver the papers to the desk to be filed, amidst the bright chatter between the four people in the room. A moment later, though, she poked her head back in, looking perplexed. "Mr. Jones, there is someone here to see you."

Still cheerful, Alfred said, "Send them in!"

A tall man strode through the door. He was wearing a dark green suit that matched his black hair and his bristling mustache. Though he was on the older end of age, he still looked lean and fierce. Many epaulettes were pinned to the broad chest of his suit, and gold thread was woven into the stiff shoulders of it. A flatcap topped his head. But it were his eyes that were arresting; light brown, like polished marble, but cold and focused.

Kiku didn't like him on sight. He liked him even less when the other stepped in, black-polished shoes gleaming, and then stepped right on his bare foot. He cringed, and then cringed again as the man glared at him. _Now I have to polish my shoes to get your filth off, and it's all your fault,_ his eyes seemed to convey, and Kiku agreed with that.

The man pasted a smile onto his face. "Hello, Mr. Jones. I'm Brigadier General Sir Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. Call me Brigadier General. I'm representing the United States Army Air Force, or the USAAF."

_Funny,_ thought Kiku. _I'm sure your accent is slightly British._ He would know, having spent many an evening talking to Arthur over a pot of tea while Alfred complained that 'Politics is boring! C'mon out already so we can play something!'

After an awkward pause, Alfred snapped a salute. "Um...Greetings, Brigadier General. I welcome you to this…" The American looked around. "This hospital room. What can I do for you?"

Francis and Arthur sat up straight, their very postures suggesting fixation on these next words.

Instead of answering, the Brigadier said, "You know about the war."

"Duh. Hard to forget about it." Alfred rolled his eyes.

The Brigadier smiled tolerantly. "How would you like to fly?"

Alfred, not seeing the trap here, grinned. "I would love to. I've actually dreamed about doing that before, and-"

"Would you like to assist us in eradicating the forces of evil that seek to subvert our noble country?" The Brigadier General glanced from face to face, smiling, until he reached Kiku's eyes and practically sent a laser of hate through their briefly meeting gazes. No one else noticed. _Well, when you phrase it like that, _thought Kiku wryly, _then even I'd take up arms._

When it looked as if Alfred were about to agree, Francis quickly stepped forwards. "Could you give us minute or two to discuss this?" he interjected quickly. "Alfred might not realize the effects of such a monumental decision." Worry creased his features.

Arthur looked worried as well. "Yes, please, a few minutes would be nice."

Not realizing what was going on, Alfred blithely asked, "Why do you have a British accent?"

Everyone rolled their eyes as the General answered. "Because I was born there, and moved here," he said in an annoyed tone. "Now, if we are done with the questions-"

"You haven't answered mine." Francis's blue eyes had never looked colder.

"Well," chuckled the Brigadier, "you have no choice in the matter." In a tone that shredded their confidence, he snapped, "I paid for your hospital bill. If you wish to pay for it, be my guest, but the price will bankrupt you, turn you out of house and home. Where will you live? Certainly not with your Japanese friend here, for his family is large and there is no room in the house. Not to mention that he's our enemy in this war." He sneered.

Arthur sputtered angrily, emerald eyes raging, but had no comeback. Alfred was beginning to get the gist of this occurrence, and was regretting his quick answers. _What have I done? _he thought morosely.

The Brigadier leaned forwards menacingly. "What I'm saying is he must come. He is a strikingly fit young man, the star of his sports team, am I right?"

Dumbstruck, Arthur found himself nodding. When Alfred normally would've gone off on a tangent about how amazing he was, how many goals he'd scored, he kept silence. That alone was a testament to how seriously the American was taking this.

"Our forces have been observing this area and the recruitable people here. Jones here is at the top of our list. We've tested him, and he came out with the best score out of all our unwitting volunteers. "

A realization suddenly sparked in Alfred's sky blue eyes. "_You_ sent those thugs after me and Kiku! We could've been killed!"

The others in the room all came to their feet. "You?"

Francis took a step towards the Brigadier General. "So this was you? You decided to endanger my cousin just to get a good man into the army? Do you see these tubes? These IVs? Do you have any idea of how much he was hurting before? How much he'll hurt once you put him away?" The ghosts of past experiences swam in his eyes, and he stuttered to a stop, unable to go on. Arthur picked up where Francis left off, but the Brigadier looked unfazed.

"So you think you can just barge in and ruin our family, eh? If my brother wants to stay out of this conflagration, then I say let him stay out! It's no concern of yours, you or those 'operatives' that stalked the neighborhood." His voice rang with sarcasm. "Oh, sure, you can just walk right in and announce 'I'm taking your brother' and believe it shall be so? There's a thing called free will, you know, and-"

The Brigadier cut him off impassively. "I have a responsibility to my country to select the best soldiers for the duty of protecting our glorious nation. I am entitled to whatever means necessary to enforce this." Arthur sputtered impotently at this, but the Brigadier General gave him no time to respond.

He turned to Kiku, marbled eyes impassive. "Find the TV remote. I would like to give these people an example of something."

Defiance was not a natural trait in the Japanese man. He tapped it anyway. "Why I should I do something for you, sir? You are threatening to condemn my best friend to a fate worse than death-" _At least, that's what it felt like-_ "and you treat me like scum." He straightened and tried to glare into those empty eyes. "I will not get it for you."

The Brigadier looked him up and down a moment, and then grabbed his arm and bent it behind his back in a swift movement. Kiku cried out in surprise and struggled, but under the suit, the Brigadier had muscles like steel. From the vantage point of the hospital bed, Alfred too cried out. "What are you doing? Don't hurt him!"

"I am simply doing what I must," said the Brigadier, his voice devoid of inflection. Sweat was starting to bead on Kiku's face as the pain raced up his spine. Whenever he yanked against the iron grip, the army man simply bent his arm up higher until Kiku feared his arm would be broken. But he wouldn't let himself submit to this man.

"Kiku," said Alfred worriedly, "do what he says. I don't want you getting hurt because of him." Only then did Kiku relent, finally achieving his glare as he reached for the black rectangle that would activate the small-screened TV.

The General snatched it from his hand and flipped the television on, skipping through the channels until he found the one he wanted. More bad news about the war scrolled across the screen. It was showing a grainy image of a marching army and the devastation, death and blood from the bomb days ago, and after a minute or more of the grim voice of the speaker, the TV went dark.

"This is why we need your brother. He must come with us."

The fight had been drained out of all of them. The harsh reality of the war was painful. Francis was silent, no doubt remembering his own traumatizing experiences. Arthur's face was empty of emotion. And Kiku was transfixed by the carnage, the carnage that his people had caused. Yao had kept him away from the television every since that day, not wanting him to sink further into the haze of depression, but this much blood…

The Brigadier took advantage of the silence. "We're taking him with us. You have two weeks from the time you get out of here to say your goodbyes. Then you will go to the train station and buy the tickets. At the airfield, someone from the AAF Training Command will be waiting to pick you up. He will be distinguished by a dark olive uniform and will have a picture of you to look for. You can't avoid your service to your country. You're doing a great duty by accepting my offer. " His tone of voice brooked no argument.

_Seems as if he is more of a prisoner to his duty than volunteering to save his country. _Kiku mused.

"But-" began Alfred, his cheerful mood long since replaced by a hollow silence, reminiscent of Kiku after the bombs went off.

"No buts. You will come, Jones, and that's an order."

"Yes, sir," said Alfred dully, giving a slow salute.

The Brigadier smiled. "Attaboy, Jones. You'll fit right in."

* * *

A/N:** I did too much research on tetanus and its diagnoses. However, this isn't all entirely accurate. *cough* hardly *cough*. Plus, most tracheostomies consist of just a pipe going into the throat. No medical bellows like Alfred gets. My point here is don't get tetanus, it's expensive.**

**For all of you who recognize the General's name, I love you. It's rare to find a person who actually watched Pertwee's episodes instead of just skipping to Tennant. The Brigadier was one of my favorite characters….and then he just had to die. Boo. I only regret making him a douchebag in this story.**

_Just for the record, I have no idea what she means…_

**YOU ARE DEAD TO ME }:c Okay, dead time is over. *glomp***

_Ack! Can't breathe! :P_

***releases glomp*** **Ooh, and I have no idea how people are drafted into the military, so have fun untangling my seriously messed up version of it~**

_*cough* You sign up for the draft at 18 and get a letter if/when you're drafted to report to the base or something like that *cough* And also, people can't really be drafted into the American Air Force, that's just us screwing with history again. Plus, Alfred isn't eligible for the Air Force anyways, what with his impaired vision. XD_

**Ah okay. See, she knows more than I do.**

**And a Guest correctly guessed the disease! A cookie for you, mysterious guest. Last thing: TV remotes did not exist back then. But I couldn't help it. :P**

**Long author's note FTW! Don't forget to review! :D**


	5. Parting

A/N: _Hi! Here's a new chapter!_

**C'est magnifique! :D**

* * *

Chapter 4: Parting

* * *

After his physical recovery, Alfred was allowed to return home. The hospital said that he was okay, that he would be back to the way he was before in no time.

They had forgotten to take into account his mental state.

The week passed slowly, so slowly, yet it was over in the blink of an eye. To Alfred, it was just a whirlwind of color and noise, of light and dark, of wake and sleep, of withdrawal from the world. Time had lost all meaning for him. He was trapped, trapped deep within his own mind.

Only at Arthur's coaxing did he rouse himself every morning, and eat. Only while Francis urged him did he clean himself, and go to sleep. Only when Matthew gently reminded him that time was growing short did he start to pack.

But he did not want to think about it. He would not think about it. He would keep his mind blank, empty. He would keep it clear. He would not think about it. He would not think. HE WOULD NOT-

He failed.

Day after day was filled with images of himself, guiding a fighter plane through the sky, shooting, dodging, fighting, then coming down, being praised for his gift, his contribution to his nation… Only to find that each enemy that he had destroyed, had mercilessly shot down, _every single one_, was Kiku. Kiku, his best friend, his childhood companion, his closest confidante…

Night after night was filled with dreams of Kiku, dressed in the uniform of the enemy, chasing him through the sky as malicious laughter sounded all around them, his face determined, not a speck of regret in his eyes. He would beg, plead, try so hard to make Kiku see him… but he never did. And always, his blank, empty brown eyes would be the last sight Alfred would see…

Day, night, hot, cold, loud, quiet, light, dark… it was all the same to him.

Alfred was broken.

* * *

A few days before his departure, Kiku came.

The two friends didn't speak, only sat in unnatural silence. Normally, Alfred would be filling the room with his loud, obnoxious, yet somehow endearing conversation. It unnerved Kiku, a quiet Alfred.

Finally, the black haired young man could take no more.

"Alfred-kun… please snap out of it!"

"… Kiku…" Alfred shook his head, mumbling to himself.

"Stop it, Alfred! Please, stop this! If not for yourself, then at least for your family, for me!"

Alfred looked up.

"Yes, that's it! Keep going!"

Alfred just looked down again.

"Please! Stop it, Alfred! I… I'll even stop… blaming myself. I'll stop blaming myself, and you stop torturing yourself. That's fair, right, Alfred-kun?" Kiku's voice rose in pitch as he became increasingly more desperate.

Alfred looked up again, and this time, he didn't lower his head. "... Okay."

Kiku breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Now, come on! This isn't like you!"

His friend smiled mischievously, almost hesitantly. It was hard to emerge from a self-imposed shell, but Alfred was nothing if not strong."You know, Kiku, I'm really craving a burger right about now!"

Kiku smiled back. "Then let's get you one."

* * *

With Alfred and Kiku back to normal, (or at least as normal as they could be, under the circumstances) things returned to their previous state of semi-organized chaos. Arthur and Francis returned to their arguing, Yong Soo to his… hyperactivity, Kaoru and Mei to their normal friendly sibling rivalry, Yao to his fretting, and Matthew to his reluctant mediation of all the fights.

Yet beneath the seemingly calm demeanor of their family life, there was an undercurrent of anxiety. Alfred was leaving in a week, and Kiku would not leave him, not even for a night, sticking to his best friend like glue. Nothing anyone could do would separate them, so they finally gave up.

They stayed together all that last week, visiting friends, going to their favorite places… not really doing anything important, but doing everything that was.

On the day he was to get on the train, Alfred finished packing with Kiku by his side. Since he was going to be provided with uniforms and the likes, he didn't really need much and wasn't allowed to bring a lot, anyways. In the end, he settled with a duffel bag stuffed with some toiletries, underwear, a single change of clothes, and small gifts from friends. At the last moment, when he wasn't looking, Kiku slipped a red paper crane and a photograph of the two of them, right before the war started, into the open bag.

"Alfred-kun, is that all?"

"Huh?" Alfred turned around. "Oh, yeah. That's it."

Kiku zipped up the bag, hoisting it over his shoulder and carrying it down the stairs to place by the door, then walking outside. Alfred followed, and together, they made their way to Kiku's house for the American's final goodbyes.

Mei and Kaoru immediately jumped on Kiku, the former with tears streaming down her face, the latter with a perfectly neutral expression that betrayed not a hint of his emotions. But Alfred could tell from the strength of his grip that he, too, was sad.

"Alfred-ge! Don't go!" Mei practically bawled. "W-What if you get hurt? WHAT IF YOU DIE?!"

"Please don't go, Alfred-ge..." Kaoru murmured.

Then Yong Soo joined the fray. "Yao-hyeong! Make Alfred not go!"

Yao sighed. "Aiyah... Kaoru, Mei, you're 15 and 16 years old! Get off of Alfred, aru. And Yong Soo, you know he has no choice in whether or not he goes. There's nothing I can do about it, aru!"

"But Yao-ge (hyeong)!" all three younger Asians whined.

"No buts, aru," Yao said firmly. "Now say goodbye properly."

The younger Asians all hugged Alfred tightly.

"Bye, Alfred-ge... Please don't die!" Mei sniffed.

"Uh... I'll try not to..."

"Goodbye, Alfred-ge. I'll, like, give you a panda plushie when you come back," Kaoru deadpanned.

"Thanks, Kaoru!"

"Alfred... Flying planes awesomely originated in South Korea, but you'll do just as well, da ze!" Yong Soo said, glomping Alfred.

"Uh… thanks, I guess…?"

After about a minute of hugging, Yao gently peeled his younger siblings off of Alfred. The young American shot a grateful glance at the Chinese man, who smiled back.

"Good luck, Alfred. I'm sure you'll make a great pilot, aru."

"Thanks, Yao…"

Yao smiled again, and engulfed Alfred in a warm embrace. After a few moments, he patted the younger man on the back and let go.

"You better hurry up, you don't want to miss the train, aru!"

"'Kay. Bye!" Alfred said, waving as he exited the house, Kiku trailing behind.

"Goodbye, Alfred."

* * *

As the friends returned to Alfred's house once again, Kiku suddenly spoke up.

"Alfred-kun… Don't write to me."

"What?" Alfred turned around. "Why not?"

"Alfred, our nations are at war," Kiku said, gently taking hold of Alfred's shoulders. "I don't think it would be wise for you to be writing to a Japanese person when you're in the military. The censors would probably take everything important out, anyways. Save yourself the trouble, please?"

"But…"

"Please, Alfred. It might be dangerous, and I don't want you hurting because of me!"

"I…" Alfred trailed off when he saw the look on Kiku's face. "Alright. I won't."

"Thank you." Kiku smiled. "Arigato, Alfred-kun."

They turned and headed inside, where Arthur, Francis, and Matthew were waiting. The Canadian silently wrapped his twin in a warm embrace, tears streaming down his face as his brother awkwardly patted his back.

"Hey, hey… It's OK, Mattie. Don't cry…"

"Al…" Matthew sniffed. "I'm scared for you…"

"Don't be. I'll be fine. In fact, I'll be a hero!" Alfred smiled and struck a heroic pose.

"That's what I'm afraid of! What if… what if…" Matthew burst into sobs again.

"Mattie…" Alfred let his twin bury his face in his shoulder.

"Matthew… Come now, don't be so upset." Arthur gently pulled Matthew off of his brother. "Alfred will be fine. You'll see."

"Yeah, Mattie! I'll be the best pilot you've ever seen!"

"Oui, Mathieu, have faith in your brother." Francis put an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "After all, I was fine, non?"

Matthew started to cry harder at the mention of his cousin's involvement in the Great War, causing Arthur to glare at him.

"How many times have I told you to refrain from speaking French in my presence? And you did NOT just go there!" he exclaimed through clenched teeth.

"But Arthur-" Francis tried to defend himself.

"But nothing! You've upset Matthew!" Arthur turned away huffily and gently led the younger man to the living room.

"Well, Alfred… Remember to write. And don't be afraid to ask for advice," Francis said in a more subdued tone than usual.

"I won't. Thanks, Francis." Alfred embraced the French man. "Take care of Matthew."

"I will. Adieu, mon petite lapin."

"Goodbye."

Arthur finally emerged from the living room and started out the door. "Come on, Alfred, we don't want you to be late."

"Right!" Alfred moved to get his bag, but Kiku beat him to it.

"I'll get it, Alfred-kun."

"Oh. Thanks, Kiku. Bye Francis, bye Matthew!" he called as he walked out of the house. "I'll be home soon!"

And with that, they got into the car and drove off.

* * *

Once at the train station, Alfred said his goodbyes to Arthur, whose green eyes were filled with tears, though he tried to deny it, and turned to face Kiku.

"Kiku… I'll miss you. This war had better be over fast, so we can have our friendship back, right?" he asked, trying to make a joke.

Kiku just nodded, ignoring the looks he was getting from all around. "Sayonara, Alfred-kun. Until we meet again."

He turned and started to walk away, bending his eyes resolutely forwards.

"Bye, Kiku…" Alfred whispered, then headed to board the train. Once standing in the door, he forced a smile to his face and waved. "I'll be back in time for Christmas, and I expect a decent spread!" Then, at the conductor's prodding, he disappeared inside the train.

He didn't see Kiku's backwards glance.

Nor did he hear that last, whispered farewell.

"Goodbye, Alfred-kun... Forever..."

* * *

A/N: _Hopefully you guys understand what Kiku means in the last line... If not, it'll be explained... sometime... maybe at the end?_

**Even I don't know what it's for. I'm not a deep thinker. :3**


	6. Introduced

A/N: **So both of us are back in school again. Yay. *waves hands weakly* It's marvelous isn't it.**

_Hehe. School. It's a wonderfully flawed government institution here in the US… And you wonder why Alfred is so, uh,_**(occasionally dense?)**_ Alfred-y? :P_

**Also I tried referring to people as 'manboys' but that didn't fly. Apparently they have to be 'young men'.**

_No, Sera. NO MANBOYS!_

**:( Well, you can't say I didn't try. :3**

* * *

Chapter 5: Introduced

* * *

The train ride was uneventful. Alfred mostly just slept, and was mercifully free of the nightmares that had plagued him for the last week.

After a seemingly short ride (though it was, in reality, many hours), the train had reached the correct station. Apprehension gripped Alfred as he walked onto the platform and proceeded to search for the man he was told to look for.

"What did the Brigadier General say, again? That he would be wearing a… dark olive uniform?" Alfred muttered to himself as he wandered around. The amount of people at the station was making it hard to see. Luckily, he didn't have that much luggage to carry.

Weaving his way through the crowd, he glanced around him. There were so many people, each different in their own respects. Interestingly enough, there seemed to be an abundance of Japanese people, but he didn't pay much mind to them.

He whipped his head around when he heard someone call his name. His gaze settled on a tall, rather intimidating man with pale hair and a long, very light pink scarf that clashed with the asparagus-colored uniform. "Alfred Jones?" the man queried again, strangely violet eyes searching through the crowd.

For a brief moment, he considered flinging himself back aboard the train, scrounging up some money from his bags, and then buying the tickets to go home. After holding onto the fantasy, he let it go and began pushing his way through the crowd.

"Yes? That's me! I'm Alfred Jones!"

"Ah, there you are." The man walked over, sticking his hand out. "I am Sergeant Ivan Braginski. I will be your training group's commander from here on out."

Alfred shook Ivan's hand. "Uh, good afternoon, Sergeant Braginski."

"Come." Ivan turned and started to move quickly through the throngs of people, forcing Alfred to half run to catch up. When he again made it to the Sergeant's side, he panted out, "Where are we going?"

In response he received a look so frozen that it cowed him into silence for a few minutes.

They exited the front of the station, and Ivan headed directly for a boxy automobile with a canvas back and, Alfred noted worriedly, no doors. It was a rather sleek model, with headlights polished to perfection and a carefully burnished hood with the outline of what appeared to be a sunflower on the front.

"Put your luggage in the back," Sergeant Braginski ordered, and the American quickly complied.

After a few minutes of strained silence between the two as the car cruised down the road, Alfred said, "Uh, Sergeant Braginski?"

"да?" the other man responded without taking his eyes off the road

"Um, where's your accent from?"

"I am Russian," Braginski responded flatly.

"Oh. OK." Alfred fell silent again.

After a few more minutes, Alfred spoke up again. "Ah, nice car."

This was apparently a point of pride for the Russian Sergeant, who turned to him and smiled a bit creepily. "да, she is my personal car. I call her подсолнечник. Be careful that you do not scratch her, though, because otherwise I shall have to kill you~!"

With that charming piece of knowledge, the rest of the trip was silent.

Alfred pondered the thought that his commander was insane, but then dismissed it. Surely the Brigadier General wouldn't let someone in the army that was insane...

Or would he?

* * *

As they pulled into the air base, Sergeant Braginski turned to give Alfred a rather creepy smile.

"You will be living in this building during your training." He gestured to the building in front of them as they got out of the vehicle. "Over there is the mess hall, and behind that is the training grounds. Your training group will begin training the day after tomorrow, so be prepared!"

The Russian led the younger man into the building and showed him to his room. "My room is down the hall, so behave yourself~! Curfew is at 2130 hours, and you are expected to be in bed at 2200 hours. I will make rounds at night to ensure you are in your room. If not, you will be punished. And you do not want to be punished."

Something about the way he said that made Alfred gulp, and the American nodded.

"Good! I expect your roommates to inform you of our other procedures. See you tomorrow at 0500 hours~!" Sergeant Braginski left, leaving Alfred standing in the center of the room, looking around.

There was only one empty bunk left, so Alfred walked up to it and sat down, placing his duffel on the mattress. He looked at his roommates, several of which who were looking back at him with expressions ranging from curiosity to pity, and strangely enough in one case, dislike.

It was quiet for a bit, until the man -almost a boy, really, the way Alfred must've seemed- next to his bed piped up and said, "I hope you don't snore."

And suddenly the atmosphere in the room was much lighter. The American could tell that much. People were smiling, and Alfred found himself chuckling as well. "I don't snore," he assured, and then clarified; "At least, I don't _think_ I do."

Then the other people in his room were all standing around him, except for the young man that glared at him from his corner of the room. A short young man with dark hair stepped up for a firm handshake and a quick nod. "Binh Nguyen." Alfred nodded back and stated his name. "Alfred Jones."

A round of names followed. A young man with blond hair was Johnny Muller. An asian-looking man was Isaac Li. There was an older man who introduced himself as Chris Benjaminsen. Jack Douglass and Toby Turner, two brown-haired young men, were apparently best friends. A square-faced young man with large glasses introduced himself as Carl Fredrickson. A hispanic young man that appeared about Alfred's age was Carlos Rodriguez.

"And him in the corner is Cody Simms, a foreign bloke who somehow got transferred here on accident," Johnny confided to him. "We just leave him alone, cuz he snaps at people when we talk to him."

Alfred glanced at Cody. The other young man glowered sullenly back from under thick eyebrows. His green-eyed glare (and the eyebrows) reminded him of Arthur. Undaunted, Alfred walked over to him.

"Hey! I'm Alfred Jones."

The brown haired man didn't respond.

"What's your name?"

"They told you already, didn't they?" Cody grumbled, scratching at the bandage on his nose.

"Well, yeah…" Alfred scratched his head sheepishly. "But I wanted to hear it from you."

"Cody Simms." With that, Cody turned away. Alfred noticed a tattoo of an evil-looking koala on his left bicep. The American wasn't satisfied with the skimpy answer, however, and pressed the other again.

"Where're you from?"

Cody glared.

"Ah… OK, I'll just, um… go over there…" Alfred said, beating a hasty retreat.

According to the clock on the wall it was 2128. "So what happens now?"

It was an open-ended question, and the first to respond was Toby. "Well," he said, "we have five minutes to make sure everything's ship-shape before Sergeant Braginski comes along for inspection. After that we light safety torches to scare the monsters."

Behind him Jack burst into laughter, and then corrected his friend. "After inspection, we've got about half an hour to do whatever." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Alfred smiled a little. The act reminded him of Francis' particular brand of weirdness..

Taking pity on him, Binh showed him how to fold up the bedcovers so they were straight and organized. His pedantic manner reminded Alfred a little bit of Kiku, and the American was forced to blink away memories. It took Alfred a few tries to get the bed-folding right, and by the time his area was organized, his clothes neatly folded into their respective drawers, Sergeant Braginski's footsteps were coming down the hall, right on time.

Alfred glanced to either side, where Binh and Johnny were standing ramrod straight, one hand to their foreheads in salute, and tried to imitate that pose the best he could.

The tall sergeant entered the room, ducking slightly to avoid banging his head on the doorway. He marched to the foot of each bed, tugging on the blankets, literally inspecting the surfaces and the angles. Alfred was suddenly glad he'd spent an extra thirty seconds aligning the corners perfectly, the way Isaac had.

After a prolonged silence, the sergeant straightened. "Well, everything seems to be in order." There was a nearly silent exhalation as all ten young men released a pent-up breath.

And then the Russian sergeant turned his unsettling gaze on Cody, slouched in the corner. "Except for you, Simms. Show some respect, да?."

Cody reluctantly stood, languidly stretching his arms behind his head before moodily assuming the salute. His bedsheets were ruffled, and Sergeant Braginski pounced on it. "Well, look what we have here. Didn't feel like trying, Simms?"

To his credit, Cody didn't flinch under the unwavering gaze. The sergeant frowned. "Don't feel like responding? Are you too good to be here, Simms?"

With a sharp whap, the sergeant slammed a metal pipe down on the wardrobe at the foot of Cody's bed. It was a miracle the sturdy wood didn't dent from the blow. "This is the Air Force, Simms. There is no place for special cases in the Air Force. Therefore, you are not a special case. You agree, да?"

The Russian didn't receive a response. After a moment, he smiled that creepy smile. "All right, then, Simms, you've earned yourself Fredrickson's spot cleaning the latrines tomorrow. I'll go make the appropriate changes on the roster. Спокойной ночи!"

Cody just stared after the sergeant as he exited the room. As soon as the door shut, he flopped back on his bunk as the rest of them resumed chatting.

"Dude, why'd you do that?" Alfred asked, approaching Cody's bunk curiously. He didn't shrink back upon receiving the now-familiar glare. "Do you _want_ latrine duty or something?"

He received no response, as per his expectations. Alfred decided to go further, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "C'mon, you can't be Mr. PMS this whole time."

Cody narrowed his eyes. "Get off my bed," he said in a measured tone.

"I mean, seriously, Braginski's scary enough already." Alfred ignored the other's death stare. "Why'd you have to go and make him angrier?"

"I said, get off my bed." This time, he let a little iciness seep into his voice.

"Dude, you need to loosen up a little! After all, there's no point in making yourself all stressed out! I mean, we're in the military, and we'll probably get to see action-" Alfred was cut off suddenly as Cody slammed his fist into the wall.

Silence fell over the room. Even Alfred couldn't speak. After a moment, Cody took a shaky breath.

"You want to see action?"

Confused by the sudden question, Alfred shrugged. "Well, we're already here, we might as well make the most of it."

Cody laughed, bitterly. "'Make the most of it?' Is that what you call being sent off to fight for your life, having to kill in order not to be killed? And if you are, is that what being degraded to a 'casualty' is, without even the honor of being remembered as a person?"

"I…"

"Would you like me to tell you a story, mate?" Cody's eyes blazed. "It's about my little brother. He was so eager to serve our country, he went and enlisted as soon as the war broke out. My dear little brother… He managed to convince me to enlist too, you know. That's why I'm here."

Cody's eyes began to get a distant look in them, as if he wasn't fully in the room anymore. "He joined the army, and was sent to the Middle East. Last year, he was sent to Africa, to face the Italians. The first major Allied offensive in that region. And they won. They chased out the Italians, and made it out alive and victorious."

Cody paused, his voice turning soft, yet it was as cold and bitter as the winter wind. "Before my brother left us, he told our younger brother and sister that he would stand strong against the evil Nazis and fascists in Europe, even if it took everything he had. He promised me and our parents that he would return. And you know what? He kept both promises. But he had forgotten something. He never promised that he would get out alive."

Raising his eyes to meet every other pair in the room, he whispered those last words. "He returned to us in a body bag." His eyes no longer looked quite as angry, but they were still very hard.

Cody turned to Alfred. "I've been in the army longer than most of you, who've been here about a day. One or two of you have been here for a week. Benjaminsen's been here for a few months." Cody lowered his eyes. "I've been here for a year, actually _fighting_, not just being trained."

There was an awkward moment in which Alfred didn't know what to say. "Geez, man, I'm-"

Cody turned away. "Get off my bed."

Alfred walked back across the room. Cody watched, out of the corner of his eye, as the blond one - Muller, who'd been there for one and a half days - leaned over to whisper something to him.

_Yes, that's right, judge me,_ he thought sourly. _I'm the only one who's actually fought, who knows the horrors, and every time they switch my group, I have to watch them get disillusioned again. A cycle of heartbreak._

He turned his gaze back to the wall, ignoring the American's laughter at whatever Johnny had said.

_And even worse,_ thought Cody, _you're just like him._

* * *

A/N: **Some translations:**

подсолнечник - Sunflower (Russian)

да - You should know this.** (That's not what it means, though XD)**

Спокойной ночи!- Nighty night! (Russian)

**I'm sure a few of you recognized some of the names on that list. Yes, I did put two famous YouTubers, the man who founded the game Everybody Edits, and the old man from 'Up' in the military with Alfred, as well as three nations in disguise. I hope none of the above people get annoyed.**

**And I'm sorry about the safety torch. I couldn't help it. *waves at inky* :D**

_It's up to you guys to guess who's who. Cookies to those who can get it by next update!_

**Of course, one is obvious, mostly, but the other two are fair game...(cookie) → (: :)**

_In other news, Sera and I have decided to set up an update schedule for this story. Barring any strange, unpredictable occurrences such as hurricanes or whatnot (we DO live in the South, and it's hurricane season... XD), we will _**(try to)**_ post chapters on Sundays from now on._

_Anyways. Reviews are nice!_

**Not just nice, but absolutely fantabulous! Double helpings of cookie for you if you review. ^^**


	7. If I Depart

A/N: _From here on, the format will be changing a bit. Each chapter after this one will alternate between Kiku and Alfred's points of view, and somewhere in the chapter will be a letter. You'll see when you get to it._

**Unless of course we do it differently :3**

_But we'll warn you about that. _

**Probably.**

* * *

Chapter 6: If I Depart

* * *

A few months after Alfred left, Kiku had finally settled back into his normal routine. Wake up, wake Yong Soo, Mei, and Kaoru up, send them off to school, breakfast with Yao, tidy up the house when Yao left for work, then work a bit more on his various traditional paintings and practice swordsmanship…

It was peaceful. He almost enjoyed it. If he was careful, he could pretend Alfred was just busy, and not in the war. But then everything changed.

They came for Kiku in the night.

Kaoru, Yong Soo, and Mei were sleeping in the TV room since the air-conditioning had cut out and it was unbearably stuffy and Kiku had their own separate rooms.

The first the Japanese man heard of them was the soft clunk against his window. He quickly sat up and looked, in time to see a pale moon of a face floating away in the night.

"Ah!" He jumped back, startled, before reprimanding himself. He shouldn't have yelled, what if it woke up his siblings? They still had exams before school finally let out for the summer. And it was probably his imagination, anyways.

Yes, that was it. Kiku sighed and lay back down on the bed. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, slowly falling into a peaceful sleep…

KNOCK KNOCK!

Kiku jumped up again, rubbing his eyes. Why were people knocking on the door at 3 in the morning?

Stumbling a little as he got up, he quickly located his spare yukata, pulling it on as he opened the door.

Yong Soo, Mei, and Kaoru were poking their heads sleepily but curiously out of the TV room, and Yao was already standing in the doorway, talking to whoever it was.

Yao's tone was pleasant enough, but his stance caught Kiku off guard. It looked to him like his older brother was ready to pick up his wok and smash some heads in, even in his sleeping clothes of a short-sleeved Mandarin shirt and boxers, with a robe over top. The Japanese man quickly shrank back to the doorway of his room, listening. Mei and Kaoru did the same.

Yong Soo, however, did not seem to understand the situation, and bounced out into the hallway in his incorrect sleeping hanbok.

"Yao-hyeong!"

Yao turned, glaring at the Korean and causing him to freeze to his spot. "Go back to bed, Yong Soo. This does not concern you, aru."

Suddenly, the men outside the door spoke up.

"Young man, could we ask you a few questions?"

Yao started to protest, but Yong Soo jumped at the chance, ignoring his eldest brother's glare. "Sure, da ze! Ask away!"

"Do you have a Japanese man living here by the name of Kiku Honda?"

"Yeah! He's my brother!"

"Your brother?" One of the men who hadn't spoken raised his eyebrows. "You are Japanese, as well?"

"Nope! I'm Korean, da ze! Me and Kiku were adopted, and-"

"That's enough, Yong Soo," Yao cut in. "These men do not need to know about our entire family history, aru."

"Family? Are you related to the Japanese man, as well?"

"We are all siblings here, aru. Now, is there anything I can help you with?" Yao said, his voice strained but still polite. He discretely shoved Yong Soo back toward the room.

"Yes. In fact, we need to speak to your brother. Kiku Honda."

"And why do you need Kiku, aru? He is sleeping at this moment."

"It is a matter of national security. I must insist that you allow us to see him."

"I'm sorry, aru, but my brother needs his rest-" Yao suddenly stopped, his body going rigid.

Kiku peered out too see, to his horror, a gun pointing at his older brother. Mei and Kaoru gasped, and Yong Soo fainted. The Chinese man seemed to be frozen.

Finally, the men spoke again.

"You will take us to him."

"No, aru, I canno-"

"Now." The gun was cocked with a quiet, deafening click.

There was another moment of silence, then Kiku made up his mind.

"No need."

The young man stepped out into the hallway, ignoring the frantic looks from his two youngest siblings. He walked toward the door calmly, gently pushing a frozen Yao out of the way. He took a good look at the three men standing before him. One had a flattened nose, one was blonde, and one was fairly average.

"You are Kiku Honda?"

Kiku nodded. "Yes, I am. Might I ask how I may be of service?"

"We're with the FBI, and we need you to come with us." With that, two of the men seized Kiku by the arms, while the third whipped out a badge. Kiku wondered what they were doing that for; it wasn't as if he were the one with a gun, invading people's houses and kidnapping the people in them.

"Where are you taking him? How long will he be away?" Mei was full of questions, but a sharp glare from one of the men silenced her. Kaoru was kneeling next to Yong Soo, trying to wake him rather worriedly.

Yao's hands were tightly wrapped around the banister, knuckles turning white. Out of the four, he was the only one who could guess why this removal was taking place. He didn't like the implications, and that clearly showed on his face. But there was nothing he could do. To defy the government could put him in jail, and then his family would have no money to support themselves.

And that would break his heart, even more than it was being torn right now as the thugs muscled Kiku towards the door. He could only stand and watch, his eyes shining.

"Why aren't you doing anything, Yao-ge?" Kaoru demanded. "You're letting him get taken away."

Kiku didn't seem sad or angry, though. He just seemed confused. "Can I take some clothes other than my pajamas, sir?"

"Later," said the blond one brusquely. "For now, you need to be contained." _Contained? As if I were a disease..._

They dragged him out the door, forcing him into the back seat of the black car parked in front of the house. Dazed, Kiku flinched as the door was slammed behind him. One of the men got in on the other side, and the other two got in the front.

"Let's go," the rude blonde one said.

As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, Kiku caught a last glance of his siblings. Mei's tears, Kaoru's fury, Yong Soo, revived and reaching out a hand toward him…

Yao, his expression torn.

"No, Yao. Don't come after me." Kiku whispered to the empty night sky, devoid of the moon that had always shown its face there.

"Shut up, Jap."

* * *

"I… I cannot answer that."

"And why not?"

"I don't know."

Kiku sat in a chair at the local police station, being interrogated by another FBI agent, a kinder looking middle aged man who had introduced himself as Agent Wilson.

"How could you not know? Answer the question, Mr. Honda. You had no trouble answering the previous questions."

"That was different. I know what my name, address, and nationality are, and so do you. If I told you who my parents are, you would not believe me."

"Try me." Agent Wilson sat back in his chair, crossing his arms expectantly.

Kiku sighed. "My mother's name is Zhao ZiNing. My father's name is Wang Shi. They are currently working as medics for the Chinese army."

Agent Wilson shook his head. "You were right, son. I don't believe you. Now, tell me the truth."

"But I did, sir." Kiku responded.

Agent Wilson sighed. "Kiku, how could a Japanese national have Chinese parents, especially Chinese parents who are trained medics working with the Chinese army _against_ Japan? You understand why I cannot accept your answer."

"It is the truth, sir. You can ask my brother, Yao."

"Kiku, son, I'd much rather you just tell me, so we can move on."

"I told you, sir. Can we please just come back to this question?" Kiku said, keeping his expression neutral.

Agent Wilson ran a hand through his hair, as if thinking. "Alright, then," he finally said, picking up his papers. "Next question. Mr. Honda, how many people are in your family, and what are their names?"

Kiku thought for a moment. "There's my brothers, Yao, Yong Soo, and Kaoru, and my sister, Mei. My parents, too."

"Are you part of any organizations?"

"What kind of organizations do you mean?" Kiku asked.

"Schools, clubs, community service groups… things like that," the man clarified, motioning vaguely with his hands.

"Yes, I was an instructor at the local Asian heritage school."

"Oh?" Agent Wilson put down the papers in his hand. "And what exactly did you do there?"

"I taught traditional painting, origami, and…" Kiku hesitated, chastising himself for letting the 'and' slip out..

"And?" Agent Wilson prompted.

"… And traditional swordsmanship."

The agent was silent for a moment, watching Kiku, who looked down.

"… I see." Agent Wilson stood up. "Well, that's all for today. I'll have someone take you to your temporary quarters, and we'll notify your family to bring some things for you tomorrow."

"Um… Thank you…" Kiku said, also getting up.

"Have a good rest of the night, Mr. Honda." With that, Agent Wilson left the room.

A few minutes later, the rude blonde from before returned. "Follow me."

With nothing else to do, Kiku followed the man to a holding cell, where he was left alone. Tiredly, he curled up on the cot in the corner of the room and closed his eyes.

Just before he fell asleep, he had one last thought.

_Alfred-kun… I hope you are safe, unlike me…_

* * *

That night, Kiku dreamed that he was floating.

Below him and around him, the calm, empty ocean stretched out toward infinity. Above him, the moon hung, tranquil and full, and around it, a million stars twinkled and danced in the vast reaches of the universe.

Gentle waves lapped against the shore of a lone island within the ocean, and somehow, Kiku knew that if he could reach that island, everything would be right again.

As he drifted ever closer to the small speck of land in the vast sea of peace, he could make out a group of figures gathered around a fire on the shore. He waved to them, and they waved back.

Soon, he could see that it was his family, standing there, waiting for him. He smiled and came down, landing in the water at the edge of the island.

"Kiku! Kiku, Kiku, Kiku!" his younger siblings called, laughing. "Come sit near the fire!"

Still smiling, Kiku walked toward them. Step, step, step…

Just as his foot touched dry land, however, the world began to shake. A roaring sound reached his ears, and he looked back to find a tidal wave building up. But his family didn't seem to notice, and continued calling for him.

Kiku ran toward them, arms outstretched, straining to reach them before the water. They finally seemed to notice the wall of water building behind him, and Kiku could see their looks of horror. Mei clung tightly to Yao and Kaoru, and Yong Soo scrambled back, tripping and falling on the sand.

"Go! Run!" Kiku shouted, but his family was frozen, eyes trained on the water behind him. Suddenly, Kiku tripped, falling on his stomach.

"Please! GO!" he called frantically, desperately, one last time before the wave swept him away.

Currents batted him to and fro; the foam from the surface being pushed down upon him. His lungs threatened to explode, but he still he held on. All sense of direction was lost, rendering him as helpless as a single flower petal in a rain storm.

Light, darkness, air, water, all blurred into a single reality, a reality where he could not reach the surface, could not move, could not breathe, could not see, could not call out, a reality where he was helpless, where he could only close his eyes and lose all hope, a reality where nothing seemed to matter anymore but the next few seconds of survival… a reality where even the peace of the endless sea was disturbed by unrelenting turbulence.

Then, it stopped. But Kiku was too far down, too far gone, to reach the choppy surface of the waves again. He sank deeper, deeper, eyes fixed on the slowly disappearing light of the moon, as Alfred's voice came out of the stormy ocean, whispering, "I'm sorry, Kiku…"

Finally, he lost consciousness, letting the warm, welcome darkness of oblivion overtake him.

Kiku never saw if his family made it out alive.

* * *

A/N: **And that, our darling Kiku-chan, is why you shouldn't poke things with a spiky stick. It gives you nightmares and then you make fear gardens.**

_Ignore her. She's just being sugar high… *rolls eyes*_

**Did you know I can fit my big toe in my nose? :D TRUE STORY**

_Hey! WAY too much information! We didn't need to know that! Ugh… I need brain bleach now… SERA!_

***innocent grin* Review! :D**


	8. Will You Remain?

A/N: **Sorry we were late, a wave of homework overwhelmed the protective barriers of our homes. It crashed through the doors and surged in a great froth around our feet, and we very nearly drowned. Costs are still rising in terms of reparations, and we have run out of that most precious currency, time, spending it on the fixes and life insurance.**

_In other news, packs of rabid studying and cramming sessions are predicted to soon overwhelm the world. Experts estimate that much time will be spent on trying to prevent this inevitable disaster, further depleting the funds and possibly cutting down on the budget for this story. However, the chances of success for this endeavor are at an all time low, as the phenomenon commonly dubbed 'high school' has already cut into our sleep schedules, and there is simply nowhere from which we can withdraw more time._

* * *

Chapter 7: Will you remain?

* * *

It had been a few months since Alfred was drafted, and in that time he'd not seen much else of anyone besides the men in his room and his superiors. He was surprised to realize that he was almost happy with his life at the airbase. He could get used to it.

He hadn't gone all the way through the stuff he'd brought. The picture of his family he had on his taped to the wall next to his bunk, so he could see it every night before he fell asleep, but the other assorted gifts brought back memories he didn't want to have just yet.

As well as that, he'd learned to make his bed at the correct angles, to the extent that even Sergeant Braginski was pleased with them. The dun colored uniforms he'd learned to fold at the correct angles, and was able to place neatly in the trunk at the end of his bed instead of just chucking them in randomly.

It'd been several weeks before they were even allowed near a plane, having first been trained to peak physical condition. Even Alfred, who'd originally thought himself strong, had been pushed to his limits, doing pushups at 0500 in the mud. He'd been impressed by Cody's physique, the other managing just as many pushups as the American. It'd been sort of a competition between the two of them, their morning push ups, each refusing to back down until both were utterly exhausted.

It was morning again. His internal clock woke him, and he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A glance at the wall clock told him it was 0450. Perfect.

Dropping to the ground and hurrying over to his chest, he paused for just a moment to shake Binh awake. The Vietnamese man had become one of his closer friends, although his relationship with all of them was pretty good. With, of course, the one exception.

Alfred quickly pulled on his uniform, then joined Binh in waking up the rest of the training squad. When Sergeant Braginski arrived at exactly 0500 hours, they were all lined up and dressed, ready to go.

The ten young men snapped a quick salute, and then followed Braginski's long strides out to the morning field. The sky was dark and spangled with stars, instead of being covered with clouds the way it normally was. The moon was full and luminous, illuminating their surroundings in bright silver light.

"Right, men. You know the drill. Get to it," the sergeant ordered.

"Sir, yes, sir!" they responded in unison, and dropped to the ground.

Alfred smirked at Cody, who glared back. The competition was on.

They began their push ups, feet digging into the mud, arms pumping. Time passed, and their arms started aching, but they wouldn't dare to let themselves slow for even a moment. That could lead to losing, and losing was never allowed.

As usual, their session finally ended with the sergeant standing over them. "That's enough, boys. Get up."

The two young men got up and glared at each other before wiping the mud off their boots and hands and lining up. Behind them in line, they heard Jack joking "I don't want to get fat," before silence reigned. Now it was time for mess, where breakfast was served.

Filing into the building, they each grabbed a tray and proceeded to fill them with food. Today, they were serving sausages and pancakes. Alfred, remembering his twin's legendary pancakes, quickly grabbed a plateful of the fluffy, delicious floury food, then loaded another plate up with meat and slathered it all in syrup. It wasn't anything close to the standards by which Mattie judged pancakes, but hey, what can you do?

By the time he was done, he had about twice as much food as most of the others, and about three times as much as the smaller Binh.

When they had just arrived, Alfred's voracious appetite had shocked most of his training group. Now, they all took it in stride.

Well, all except for Cody. The Australian glared at the American's plate in revulsion. "Could you possibly eat _any _more?"

"Huh?" Not understanding the tone of the question, Alfred just smiled. "Oh, yeah, I eat way more at home on normal weekends."

Cody made a disgusted sound and watched the American shovel food down his throat for a few moments before turning and going back to picking at his own food.

"Are you going to eat that?" Cody looked back up again to find Alfred's plate empty. The young man in question was pointing at the delicious-looking sausages that Cody had perforated with his fork.

"Hmm?"

Seeing the American's hopeful look, Cody rolled his eyes and pushed the plate across the table.

0700. More training. Laps around the track. Ten miles, and whoever finished first got to ride back in Sergeant Braginski's car. It was a dubious honor, as the sergeant was always being his typical creepy self, but after running, jogging, or sprinting the ten grueling miles, all their sore muscles wanted a rest. The long walk back to base would only compound the burning ache in their legs.

Sometimes Alfred was first. More often than not, though, Carlos or Issac -no, Rodriguez and Li, he was always forgetting to call them by their last names- claimed the first place prize. The two of them were born sprinters. Fredrickson always came in last. Running wasn't his strong suit. He would trudge in, sweat dripping off his face, with Braginski behind him cheerfully calling out, "Come on, slowpokes! You wouldn't want me to catch you, would you now?"

But it wasn't really about the car ride back, it was about beating Cody in the race. When the finishing point was in sight, both young men would just put their heads down, find some strange reserve of energy, and then burst for the end.

Of course, the wins and losses varied day to day. Alfred felt that he'd accomplished his daily duties whenever he beat Cody both in pushups and the run.

After that exercise, they were shepherded onwards to the airplane hangar. This was the American's favorite part of the day; walking among the jets, the sleek curves of the wings and the polished black glass had a almost alluring aesthetic that was pleasing to the eye. But as well as that, he just couldn't wait to sit behind the wheel and actually _fly _in one of them. He'd even picked out the one he absolutely loved; a beautifully designed masterpiece in the back corner.

While the sergeant talked about the different types of planes and their respective pros and cons, and about which missiles could be held and gauging advantages and all the technical jargon referring to the planes, Alfred's thoughts were on flying that beauty, firing missile after missile with grim accuracy into the cowardly enemy and saving his whole squad, saving the entire mission, even. Being the hero.

But apparently he learned through osmosis. Though he hardly paid attention in that class, he had a feeling he'd aced the test flights. Sitting behind the wheel was the most natural thing he'd felt for a while. Like he was born for it.

And today was the day he had been anticipating for weeks. Today was promotion day, when those who'd 'gone above and beyond' in the flight tests rose through the ranks.

Normally, Alfred's training squad would head to practical training (which had been dubbed Survival 101 by the young men in his squad) after lunch, which came after their lecture on the uses of different aircraft. But today, they made a beeline for the airfield, where a small, temporary stage was set up.

They quickly found their positions among the other training squads, and Sergeant Braginski gave them all a quick, slightly creepy smile of assurance before heading off to join the other squad leaders on the stage.

Presently, the groups were quieted. The sergeants and their higher-ups were standing around the stage. With a small shock, Alfred recognized Brigadier General Lethbridge-Stewart. Those cold eyes gave no hint if he recognized the man he'd recruited or not.

A man dressed in too many layers for the summer heat came to the front of the stage. A scarf that was a dark crimson hung around his neck, and a strange pointed hat rested on his head. He had thick white eyebrows and a matching mustache. Despite all this, he was intimidating, and looked incredibly out of place. When he spoke, his accent was like Braginski's, and Alfred briefly wondered if the two of them were related.

"Greetings, initiates. Today is promotion day, and I expect many of you more experienced groups to be promoted to the next level of training. As for you newer groups, do not have too much hope. Chances are you will not get a promotion for a while yet. You are simply here to observe."

Alfred winced. _That's harsh…_ he thought. But soon his attention was brought back to the stage, where a list of names was being read out.

"From Sergeant Owens's group: Andrew Griffin, Sebastian Mears, Stefan McDouglas…"

And the list went on and on. Young men trying to hide smiles under a solemn mask walked up to the stage, received the extra color for their uniforms, and then were directed behind the stage for more information. Some of the names Alfred recognized, some he didn't, but none of them were his close friends. After all, these people receiving promotions were all from more experienced training groups, not his own.

When the list had gone down to 'Sergeant Paddington', Alfred was beginning to be worried. _Have we been forgotten? Was there an error? _ He couldn't help but cling to the diminishing hope that he'd be one of the lucky few to rank up, but it was seeming more and more unlikely. After a few more names, though, they finally reached his group. He perked up again.

"From Sergeant Braginski's group: An astonishing four people. You must be doing well, Braginski."

Their Sergeant smiled slightly at the praise. Alfred's heart starting beating faster. _That means I have a forty percent chance of being picked. That's a pretty good chance, right?_

"The ones to receive promotion: Binh Nguyen-" The group whistled and clapped, and Binh ascended to the stage, bowing his head to hide his smile.

"Carlos Rodriguez-" The young man received the same reception.

"Cody Simms-" Alfred felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, though he clapped anyway. The smug glare Cody sent him wasn't helping. _If he gets in, and I don't, he'll never let me live it down-_

"- and Alfred F. Jones. Congratulations to all of you for your hard work and your new positions." The General turned and walked off the stage.

Alfred was in shock. He really hadn't expected to get in, even though he had felt so confident. His luck wasn't the best it could ever be, but to be promoted within a few short weeks… That was nothing short of a miracle.

His heart pounding, he walked up to the stage and received his new color from Sergeant Braginski.

The Russian sergeant gave him a pat on the back. "Good job, Alfred. I shall look forward to serving with you."

"Wait… Serving with me, sir?"

"I have been transferred from the training division. They need me on the field."

"Oh… Will you be my squadron leader again?" Alfred asked, a little perturbed by that thought.

"I hope so~!" Braginski gave his trademark smile once more.

Alfred shivered. "Um… I gotta go, sir. Sorry."

He made a hasty retreat, while Braginski just kept smiling behind him.

* * *

That night, their training group celebrated Binh, Carlos, Cody, and Alfred's promotions. Not being allowed alcohol on the base, (and not old enough to drink it anyways) Alfred happily sipped at his fruit juice, laughing as Binh made a joke. The serious, headstrong, sometimes shy Vietnamese man rarely ever found anything humorous. The promotion must have gotten him in much lighter spirits.

Then Alfred noticed that Cody was all alone, lying on his bunk with his hands folded behind his head, just gazing at the bunk above his.

Alfred walked over to him, pushing down the familiar resentment. When Cody noticed his presence, he turned to him and scowled. "What do you want?"

Alfred gave him an annoyed look. "Truce?"

The Australian scoffed. "Why would you want that? Tired of me beating you every day?"

His temper rose. "You did _not_ beat me every day! I won fair and square for three days last week! D-" He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face, while Cody raised an eyebrow.

"So if we're going to be deployed together, it'd be a bad idea to bring any grudges with us. We might need to-" -he shuddered, and Cody's mouth lifted, just a little- "rely on each other for something, and as much as I don't like you, I want to be able to trust you out in the field."

"You make a good point," said Cody reluctantly. He held out his hand.

Alfred shook it.

"This doesn't mean I'll like you," the Australian pointed out.

"The feeling is mutual," returned Alfred as he rejoined the party.

* * *

After a bit, Cody left the impromptu celebration, muttering something about packing in preparation for the move to their new quarters.

Alfred thought nothing of it. After all, Cody had always been a bit reserved, and didn't seem to like being in a large group. But after just a few minutes, the Australian came bursting back into the room, pushing Carlos out of the way. The Mexican spluttered indignantly.

"Watch where you're going, bastardo!"

Cody just ignored him, storming up to Alfred and shaking a duffel bag in his face. "Is this yours?"

Startled, Alfred nodded. "Why do you have my bag?"

Cody narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you-" here he paused, jabbing the American in the chest with a finger, "-are a TRAITOR!"

At this exclamation, the room fell silent.

"W-What?" Alfred said, bewildered.

"Don't play dumb here! You, you just made a truce with me! How could you! I saw everything, every piece of incriminating evidence in your bag!"

"Why were you going through my bag?" Alfred asked, more irritated about this invasion of his personal property than whatever wild claims Cody came up with.

"Hah! So you admit it!"

"Admit what? Get to the point, Simms!"

"You admit that you're working for the Japanese!"

Gasps. All over the room, eyes fixed on Alfred, who had turned white.

"I-I'm doing no such thing!" he said, trying to appear calm and undisturbed. But inside, he was shaking. _Oh, God, Kiku… What happened?_

At his obviously disturbed countenance, Cody smirked. "Oh yeah? then explain this!" He held up a picture Alfred hadn't seen yet, one of him and Kiku smiling. The date on the photo was a few days before the war started, when both of them were at their best.

"Oh no… Kiku… what did you do?" Alfred whispered, dropping the cup of juice in his hand to the floor. _Would he really work against us?_

"Admit it. You are a traitor."

Alfred composed himself. This was no time to break down. "That's my best friend," he said coldly. "I fail to see why associating with a Japanese man marks me as a traitor." By now, the whole room was watching.

Cody narrowed his eyes. "Oh? Tell me, then, _Jones_-" he practically spit out the name, "-who are we at war with?"

"The Empire of Japan," Alfred answered without hesitation.

"And are the Japanese not citizens of Japan? Are they not our _enemy_?" The scorn was evident in Cody's voice.

"Kiku is not our enemy!" Alfred burst out. "He's been my best friend since childhood. He was adopted, and might as well be American!"

"That's what he wants you to think," Cody sneered.

Now it was the American's turn to scoff. "This is getting ridiculous. Are you insinuating that he's been in some sort of...of...secret terrorist group?"

Cody growled. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Your best friend is a dirty Jap."

Alfred let out a disbelieving laugh. "So you really _have_ bought into all that propaganda the government's been feeding you. I expected better."

With a roar, Cody launched himself at Alfred, and the fight was on. The two of them fell to the ground, punching and kicking and scratching and doing everything they could to harm each other.

Suddenly, the doors slammed open.

"Boys," said a cold voice, and they both froze and look up, Cody in mid-swing. The General from earlier towered above them. "What on earth are you doing? Is this any way to appreciate your promotion?" He spat the next three words. "I think not."

Sergeant Braginski stepped out from behind the General, smiling his creepy smile. "Jones, Simms, would you like to explain to General Winter here why this happened?"

"He accused me of being a traitor!" Alfred yelled the same moment Cody exclaimed, "He's consorting with the Japanese!"

Braginski actually frowned. "Come into the hallway," ordered the sergeant. They meekly obeyed. Everyone in the room watched them go.

"Simms, you do understand how serious your accusations are?" Braginski's eyes bore into the Australian's.

"Yes, sir." Cody said, his gaze steady.

"And Jones? What do you have to say to this?"

"He's misguided, sir. All he found-"

"-Was a picture of him and a _Jap_. Standing arm in arm." Cody didn't even flinch at Alfred's glare.

Braginski's eyebrows rose. "Jones? You have consorted with the Japanese?"

"Well… Yes… But it's not what you think!" Alfred immediately protested. "Sergeant Braginski, Kiku is my best friend in the entire world! Of course I have 'consorted' with him!"

"That's no excuse. You're a danger to national security!" Cody shouted at him. But a large hand on his shoulder quickly silenced the Australian.

"Alfred… did you say he's your best friend?"

"Yes, sir." _Am I about to be kicked off the group? Are they going to send me back home?_

Braginski's eyes got a distant look in them. "I see… Cody, the two of you are coming to my office."

A little unnerved at his superior's careless use of his first name, Cody immediately did as he was told. However, that didn't stop him from talking.

"Aren't you going to punish him?" asked Cody, almost petulantly.

The sergeant didn't respond. With a chill, Alfred realized that the General was nowhere to be seen. He considered asking, but he had a feeling it would break the spell.

When they finally reached the sergeant's office, Alfred and Cody quickly sat down. Braginski commandeered the chair chair behind the desk.

"Do you have any evidence, Simms?" he asked in a gentler tone, much different from his normal one.

By now, Cody was starting to feel uneasy. "Y-yes, sir…"

He handed over the photograph. Sergeant Braginski took it, examining the picture.

Alfred fidgeted in his seat. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, however, Braginski silenced him by getting up and retrieving a picture just like it from a drawer. He placed it down on the desk, motioning for the two young men to look.

The first thing they noticed was how happy Braginski looked in the photo, leaning into another man's shoulder and smiling blissfully.

The second thing they noticed was the very red, very glaringly obvious Nazi armband around the mysterious person's biceps.

* * *

A/N: **So we're late. I apologize to those who were hanging on every word, and normally my note would be longer but I'm running out of the previously mentioned commodity. Kunya!**

_I know we said that we would have a letter at the end of this, but… we didn't. Because we want to post this today, and Sera has to leave, and we still haven't decided who exactly Ivan's friend is, and it was getting super long. So, sorry for misleading you._

_And since Sera is gone, I'll say this: Review, please!_


	9. Correspondence

A/N: _So, by some strange fluke of the universe, both of us have ended up taking driver's ed the same month without realizing it._ **(Which isn't entirely bad, because I never see Field in a normal school day, but...) **_Blegh…__ We're sorry, but as this thing goes for 3 FREAKING HOURS every 3 out of 5 school days per week, we have,_ _again,_(**even more limited)**_ limited writing time._

**And driver's (Drivers? Driver's?) ed is really boring. Three freaking hours of sitting in a room listening to the teacher talk about things. I swear the moral of one of his anecdotes was 'Don't wear ripped jeans if your legs are ashy'. Or something. Ngh.**

_It's true… Our teacher is WEIRD. And that's an under exaggeration. Ach..._

**As well as that, I'm sure you've heard of the American government shutdown. It doesn't directly affect us, but if that debt ceiling isn't raised by the 16th or the 17th **_(I thought it was the 15th…)__ (_**let's say the 16th then)****, we're screwed. So thanks to the some of the Republicans **_(Not all of them! Just the Tea Party activists!)_** throwing a temper tantrum (not my words, if I'm insulting any Republicans out there), all the deliberations have to be put on hold. Which is even worse. If America falls, there's a possibility that it could cause a worldwide depression. **

**Maybe I should move to Finland.**

_Or Sweden. Or Switzerland. Or even Canada. 'Cause them Canadians are a lot… less messy… than the Americans. :) Or maybe we can just move back to China/Taiwan._

**Le sigh.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Correspondence

* * *

It'd been seven weeks since he'd been taken away from his family.

Seven weeks of relentless questioning, of loneliness, of doubting his friends and family, and of the endless wondering. He wondered if Alfred was all right. He wondered how his family was coping without him there. His brain wandered from here to there, stopping and thinking of everything that had ever crossed his mind.

But always it came back to the same two things; Alfred, and his family.

It was cold in the room they kept him in. There was a small window on the wall that let in a faint golden glow, but even if he stood on his cot to try and look out, his head barely skimmed the top. There was a disadvantage to being short.

It was never closed, as far as he could tell. Fresh air kept circulating through, and once or twice a leaf came tumbling in. He wondered if that was on purpose, or if some lazy orderly had forgotten to close the window.

But there was no light now but for a silvery ambience, which meant it was nighttime. The cold air chilled his feet, and he sighed and unrolled himself from his blanket cocoon to rummage through the wardrobe.

The room was sparsely outfitted; the cot, a set of drawers, and a bookshelf that he spent most of his time going through. He had few personal possessions with him. A picture sat on the drawers, uncreased and still perfect. He paused and looked at it.

_It was a summer barbecue a few years ago, and as always, Yao and Arthur's families held it with each other. Alfred was halfway up a tree, head poking out of the nest of branches, while Kiku stayed below, looking up at him. Kaoru was sitting under the table, brows furrowed in concentration as he rolled the firecracker that had gone off mid-meal and scared everyone. Mei and Yong Soo were petting one the neighbor's many cats, obviously delighted. Matthew was curled up in a fork in the tree Alfred was climbing, intensely focused on a book. Yao was cooking something in a wok, and Francis could be seen hovering over him, curious as to the other's style of cooking. Arthur had been relegated to setting the table because neither Yao nor Francis wanted him near the food._

Kiku smiled and stroked a finger along each of the faces before going to get another blanket out. _I remember then…_

Bending, he remembered Yao bringing him the clothes, and smuggling in that picture and a pen and paper, all sewn into the seams of a baggy green hoodie Alfred had bought him way, way back. The elbows were frayed, and there was still a coffee stain from a time the overenthusiastic American had flailed his arms and poured coffee on his companion's arm.

_"...and I brought your favorite hoodie, aru!" Yao held it up for Kiku's inspection while Agent Wilson looked on, one eyebrow raised._

_"Is there anything in the pockets?" Wilson stood up and approached it. Now used to this ritual of all the clothes being patted down, turned inside out, and searched, Yao sighed and passed over the hoodie. "There isn't, aru."_

_After reassuring himself that the pockets were empty and there was supposedly nothing in the seams, Wilson passed the hoodie back, where Yao folded it with pursed lips and added it to the small pile of clothing._

_Kiku could tell his eldest brother thought this entire thing was ridiculous by the impatient movements and the tinge of annoyance in his voice whenever Wilson spoke to him, but had the good sense to say nothing._

_"I brought you some zongzi-" Yao began, reaching into the bag he'd produced the clothing from, but Wilson was there to stop him. "You can't give him that."_

_"Why not?" asked the other, exasperated. "It's not like I'm smuggling things in or anything, aru! I'm just bringing him some home cooked food-"_

_"It's not allowed." Wilson didn't change his expression._

_The Chinese man crossed his arms. "Can you tell me, at least, why not?" he challenged._

_"I'm not authorized to give you that information."_

_Sensing that his brother was ready to fight the man, Kiku quickly intervened. "It's okay, Yao-ge. I'll be fine without them."_

_He turned to the agent. "But…" He dearly would love to eat the zongzi. "Could I eat a few if you watch me?"_

_Wilson muttered to himself for a moment, eyes turning inward, before giving a reluctant nod of assent. In moments, the zongzi was unwrapped and the Japanese man was devouring the treat. Yao smiled in satisfaction, but moments later he was arguing with Wilson over whether Kiku could have his watercolor set with him._

_Eventually, Kiku had to break up the two of them, thank Wilson politely for his time, and then give Yao a tight, tight hug that betrayed his reluctance for his elder brother to go. He'd pretended he was little again, not listening when Yao reminded him gently to let go._

He still felt the imprint of his brother's traditional red robes against his face.

Kiku sighed and wrapped himself in the blanket. It was best to put off his sleep; the nightmare had resurfaced every single night, and the panic was renewed.

After Yao had gone and after a few days of wearing the hoodie, he'd felt a sharp corner. Curiosity overwhelmed his desire to keep the hoodie in moderately good shape, and he carefully unpicked the seams. The picture, as well as the paper and pen he now had secreted away in the drawers, were safe inside.

He took the pen and paper out now. The faint moonlight shone off of them, but Kiku's eyes had adjusted well enough to be able to see when he wrote.

_Dear Alfred,_

_You will most likely never read this letter, yet, for some reason, I cannot restrain myself from writing it. Are you well? It has been nearly three months since you left for the Air Force. Have you been training hard? Is the food all right? I know how much you love eating, and I would hate it if you were to lose that joy in the midst of this war._

_Your family is fine, according to what Yao-ge has told me. They miss you, it is true, but they are getting along well. Matthew-kun sometimes retreats into his room for hours on end, but Arthur-san and Francis-san have assured us that it is much better than when you just left. Your family often sends me letters, sometimes with little trinkets inside. They are very supportive._

_… I suppose that brings me to my current situation. I'm sure if you were here, Alfred-kun, you would try to get me out, but please, even if you do learn of this, do not come. This is also one of the reasons this letter will never be sent. Alfred-kun, the government has rounded up all "suspected alien enemies" and is currently keeping us in containment facilities. I do not know how long this will last, but I hope that this war ends soon. The few times I have seen young children in this compound… Alfred, they look so sad. If only there was some way to cheer them up, I would. Oh, they act perfectly normal, playing and laughing and tumbling on the ground, but… the look in their eyes is so much older than it should be. They are so different from us, when we were that age._

_Do you still remember, when we first met, when our friendship started? Those days, how I wish I could share those days with these children right now. They don't deserve this. Please, Alfred, wherever you are… Help end this war soon._

_Your friend,_

_Kiku_

With a sigh, Kiku set his pen down and folded the letter up. He gripped it, hard, intent on ripping it to shreds and scattering them to the nighttime sky, forever destroying all evidence of his and Alfred's friendship, so that Alfred would be safe, so that his family would be safe, so that the stain of his existence would not spread…

But he couldn't. As hard as he tried, he just could not sever that last tie with his best friend.

Sighing, Kiku smoothed out the wrinkles in the paper and placed in in the bottom of his suitcase from home, and crawled into bed again. He would have to find a proper home for it later.

* * *

Kiku woke up the next morning to knocking on his door. He quickly sat up and straightened his rumpled clothes as Agent Wilson walked in.

"Good morning, Agent Wilson," he said politely. The older man nodded in reply, then smiled.

"Good news, Mr. Honda. You're going to be moved to a relocation center. It's a large camp, and you'll get to move around more."

"Oh. Um, thank you." Kiku was unsure how to respond.

"Oh, and you're brother is here again, so we're letting you see him before you leave. Come."

Kiku followed Agent Wilson out into the hallway, then to the visiting room, where Yao was waiting. Upon seeing his younger brother, the Chinese man jumped up from his seat.

"Kiku, aru! Are you OK? Did they treat you well? Oh, poor thing, you look thinner, aru! Have they not fed you enough?" At this, Yao glared at Agent Wilson slightly, before returning to his fussing over Kiku.

"Yao-ge… I'm fine. Why did you come today?"

"Oh!" Yao brightened. "I remembered something, aru! Here!"

A bundle was shoved into Kiku's hands, and the Japanese man's eyes widened. The cloth… it was familiar. It was the cloth he'd always wrapped his katana in.

Agent Wilson frowned, moving to take the bundle from Kiku. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wang. I have to inspect that before he can have it."

Yao glared. "Then please do."

Kiku was bewildered. What was going on? Why would Yao want Agent Wilson seeing him give Kiku a weapon?

Agent Wilson carefully unwrapped the cloth, revealing… a long, thin wooden box? Kiku frowned. Then, as the agent opened it, he finally realized what it was.

Inside the box was nestled a scroll that Kiku immediately recognized. It was Yao's work, and one of Kiku's favorites, depicting a forested river valley in the traditional Chinese style of ink painting.

But that was not all. The scroll was rolled around a seemingly flattened wooden pole, inscribed with chrysanthemum and cherry blossom designs that were oh so familiar.

Yao had hidden his old practice sword in the painting.

The join between the handle and the sheath was cleverly disguised with a well place ribbon, and to make it congruent, it seemed Yao had carved a fake handle for the other end. Anyone who didn't know what to look for wouldn't be able to tell that it wasn't just an ordinary piece of wood.

Still, Kiku held his breath, only letting it out after Agent Wilson put it back in the box.

"I don't know why you want your brother to have this, Mr. Wang, but as long as he can carry it, I don't see any harm in allowing him to have it."

Yao smiled, but still glared a bit at the other man. "Good, aru. It will keep Kiku company."

After a bit of talking, they said their farewells, and Yao left.

It was the last time they would see each other for many, many years.

* * *

A/N: _Yay! I don't know why I'm happy! Woohoo! Maybe it's because I read this Time magazine article about "Congress is bad for the economy"? XD It's so true…_

_So, next chapter we return to Alfred's side of things! Yay!_

**Tomorrow we have more driver's ed. Joy. And since Field had to leave this time, I get to be the one that posts this! The sheer excitement! :D**

**And I found a lovely new emoticon that looks like this; \(^J^)/ See it's an adorable Russia.**

**And now, for your (hopefully) weekly message: Review! :D **


	10. Revelations

A/N: **Field discovered that the last name Williams is actually more popular in America than Canada. So she's all spazzy about it and I'm quietly amused. WHY IS MY AMUSEMENT QUIET IT'S NOT NORMAL**

_Actually, that's not true. Or at least, I don't know if it's true. What I ACTUALLY discovered was that the last name Williams is more popular than the last name Jones in America. Heheh… Sneaky Canadians. XD (Or well, sneaky Canadian, singular…) (Or actually, sneaky Himaruya…) (Or, well, you know what? Screw logistics! I'll just go to my happy amused corner and "spaz", as Sera puts it.)_

**Also, I think I know why China has the -aru accent. *not sure if people who don't speak Chinese will get this* LET'S GO~ So, you know words like 這(这) or 那, and it's relatively common maybe to add the 兒 (儿) on the end. That 兒 (儿) makes the 'ar' sound, and combined with 這 or 那 it is 'zhar' or 'nar'.**

**I THINK I'M ON TO SOMETHING HERE :D**

_Yes, and because of the complexities of the Japanese language, the -ar sound changes into an -aru sound, because all consonants must be followed by a vowel. Makes sense. Although the tendency to say 儿 (兒) is more common in the north of China, and not so much in the south, I believe…_

_Chinese linguistics lesson aside, this chapter is a direct continuation of chapter 7 (Will you remain?), so have fun reading~! (That squiggly was not intentional… my finger slipped. But whatever, it works!)_

**Oh, and we're not shipping Ivan's friend and Ivan. But I imagine if he had friends in the canon, he would think a lot of them and care about them. Ehehe… Russia has no friends…*hugs him***

* * *

Chapter 9: Revelations

* * *

For a few seconds, the room was bathed in silence.

Then Sergeant Braginski sighed, sitting back down with a thump.

"Sir…?" Alfred ventured.

"What is it, Alfred?" replied the sergeant, sounding more tired than they'd ever heard him sound.

"Who is that? Isn't he the enemy?" The American's blue eyes were riveted to that bright red armband.

The Russian sighed. "We are on opposing sides, but we are not enemies."

Cody's mouth dropped open. "But, sir! He's… He's a… He's a German!"

"Romanian, actually," Braginski responded offhandedly. Then his expression turned soft. "Andrei. That's his name. Andrei Kogalniceanu. I met him a long time ago, when we were only about eighteen years old. We'd both just joined the military, and were assigned to the same general area, a reserve base of sorts for both Romanian and Soviet forces, along the border between the two countries. This was before I switched to the air force, mind you," Braginski added, seeing Alfred and Cody's confused expression.

"But sir-"

"Let me finish."

"But-"

"That's an order, Simms." Cody lapsed back into silence, trying to hide a scowl.

"Back then… well, everything was simpler. Sure, we were part of the military, but it was calm then. Well, calm-er," he corrected with a wry grin. "War is never calm. I was rather serious and dedicated to my land, and Andrei was known for being a joker, setting up pranks and having little 'magic' tricks. How we became friends, we never really understood. Me, the strong, serious soldier, and him, the careless trickster… We were the most unlikely of pairs. But get along we did, and soon we became the best of friends.

"We stayed like that for a few years, before we both started to feel that the army was too limiting, and I enlisted in the Военно-воздушные силы, the Military Air Force of the Soviet Union. I was still on the same base, but I'd moved away from our old barracks, and Andrei and I barely saw each other anymore. Andrei himself had become friends with another man, Gilbert, a self-proclaimed Prussian Nazi who was transferred temporarily as part of a sign of friendship between Romania, the Soviet Union, and Germany."

Both Cody and Alfred opened their mouths, intent on asking how the Soviet Union and Germany could be friends when they were at war, but Braginski just plowed on, and they shut their mouths again. "I never liked Gilbert, and I don't think he liked me, either. Especially after he managed to convince Andrei to join the Nazi party, and become part of the Einsatzgruppen, the German special task forces mostly dedicated to the persecution of Jews. But even though I didn't agree with his decision, we still remained best friends. It wasn't until a few weeks before Germany broke the non-aggression pact in early 1941 that our friendship was officially torn apart. We had a massive argument, just like so many of our comrades had been having, as our two sides became increasingly alienated. Afterward, we wouldn't speak to each other at all. If we saw each other, we would turn away or pretend not to see the other person. Then… Then it happened."

Braginski took a deep breath before continuing. "The day the Axis broke the pact, there was a relatively minor battle at our base. Or at least, compared to the rest of the war, it was minor. For us, it was the world.

"I was dedicated to fighting for Russia. For the Soviet Union. I shot every Romanian or other Axis member on sight. I ran forward with my gun amidst the gas and dirt and dust, wounding or killing whomever I saw, and I thought it was right."

Alfred frowned. _Surely the best thing to do is to fight for your country?_

"I was on the side of the opposition, and he was there, and I had my gun aimed right at his head-" The Sergeant paused and rubbed his face, and Cody sat forwards in his seat.

"What happened then, sir?"

Alfred slanted a look towards his enemy, surprised to note that he, too was enjoying the Sergeant's story.

Braginski quirked the corner of his mouth. "A miracle. Now, you should know that most of the men didn't really want to fight, but the generals and the ones like me were still working for the others' eradication. They'd started using the heavy artillery on the opposing side. I heard the whistling of the shells overhead, and I looked right up and saw the shell coming, and I knew - right then - I was going to die."

The American almost asked if he died, but then he realized that it was stupid question and kept his mouth shut.

"Andrei and I looked at each other, our fear evident. That kind of fear could unite or re-unite anyone, so we just waited for the end, and I remembered thinking, You? You're the one I'm to die with?

"And then - the miracle. The shell landed right between us, and I closed my eyes."

The Russian chuckled. "Nothing happened. I opened my eyes, looked at the missile, and then poked it. Still, nothing happened. Andrei picked it up and twirled it on his finger, and it wobbled like an ungainly toy and we laughed. He hurled it away from us, and it landed, bounced a few times, and then detonated no more than ten feet away. The building next to us took the brunt of the blast, and we were only showered with dirt and a few pieces of debris. We exchanged a glance, wide-eyed, and then started to laugh harder.

"We made up in an instant," concluded their sergeant, "but there was still the reality of war, and the fact that we were enemies, now. So I requested a transfer, and a spot in the American Air Force was open to train new enlistees. And here I am now."

There was silence for a few moments. Then, Alfred tentatively asked, "Do you still talk to him?"

"Нет. It is not possible." Braginski shook his head sadly. "We haven't communicated in more than a year."

* * *

Both Alfred and Cody were noticeably more subdued after they left their sergeant's office. Alfred badly wanted to say, "I told you so," but bit down on the urge to. _What if it was Kiku and I who didn't communicate for over a year?_

_Actually, that's fairly possible. As Kiku told me not to write letters to him, I assume that means he won't write letters back._ Alfred tilted his head to the side, pondering the issue. _When I write to Francis, Arthur, and Mattie, I can add a side note for Kiku._

Decided on this issue, Alfred hurried to catch up with Cody.

"What do you want?" the Australian asked without turning as Alfred ran up to him.

"I… I just wanted to say sorry," Alfred said sheepishly.

"Yeah? What for? I'm the one who accused you of being a traitor." Cody still hadn't turned around.

"Well, I, um… I wanted to apologize for yelling… and for giving you that bruise." Alfred pointed to the purplish blob on Cody's cheek. "I just… I was kinda hoping that we could… um… you know… put this behind us? My offer of a truce still stands."

Cody sighed, rubbing his face. "I should apologize too. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, and that I lost my temper. I shouldn't have reacted that way. It's just… when I saw the picture… I was reminded of… of… my little brother…"

Suddenly, Cody burst into tears. Startled, Alfred froze for a second, then started awkwardly patting the other man on the back.

"It's OK…"

Cody whirled on him "No, it's not! It will NEVER be OK! He's gone, forever! Your words can't change that!"

Alfred drew back, a look of uncertainty on his face, but then Cody continued. "But… thanks for trying, anyways." Wiping his eyes, the Australian man held out a hand, a small, bitter smile on his features. "Truce?"

Alfred clasped the proffered hand. "Truce."

They shook, and together walked back to their room to pack.

* * *

Later that night, Alfred sat down to write a letter to his family.

_Mattie, Arthur, and Francis,_

_So… It's been a while. How are you? Mattie, I hope you're not closing yourself off in your room again. You're not supposed to do that! I'll be perfectly fine, just you watch._

_I got a promotion today! It was me, Binh, Carlos, and Cody. You know, the guys in my training group I told you about? I'm just waiting to be assigned my new squadron, then I'll probably actually get to fly, instead of just sitting here with nothing really to do. I know, Francis, that you would tell me it is not such a great thing, but I can't help but be excited. Sure, I might get sent off to fight, but… Well, I just feel so giddy!_

_So, you know Cody, the Australian guy? Well, we finally agreed to stop fighting, and formed a truce. Sure, it took him accusing me of treason and a long, heartfelt talk with Sergeant Braginski to get him to come around, but I feel that we'll become good friends. Everything's starting to look up, you know?_

_I do wish I could see you again, though. I miss you a lot. I hope everything's fine at home. Give my best wishes to Kiku and his family. I know they must be taking this hard. Oh, and if you do see Kiku, can you ask him how he is for me?_

_Sincerely,_

_Alfred_

_P.S. I ate 5 hamburgers in a row last Wednesday! See, I told you I could do it, Mattie_

_P.P.S. Arthur, you'd better not be poisoning Mattie and Francis while the HERO isn't there to protect them!_

* * *

A/N: **Soooo, we're late again. 'Pologies. We had a crapload of studying, Field more so than me, as I opted not to take all the AP classes (which is probably not good in the long run). Plus, the PSAT was this past week! I actually fell asleep while they spent an hour telling us how to fill in the answer sheet… Puh, I say.**

_Heh. PSAT. So FUN! *cough*sarcasm*cough* And AP classes are what you take to get into Ivy League schools (especially if you're Asian). Sad, but true. Plus you have to have a bunch of random extracurriculars and leadership thingies. Oh, and don't forget the 'good character'. Ah, the things we're willing to do to get into a good university…_**Oh joy.**

**Also we had an… interesting conversation following the line "Both Alfred and Cody were noticeably more subdued after they left their sergeant's office." I plead surprise buttsecks, but Field disagrees. Our 'Author's Notes on Author's Notes' conversations (that we don't put up here for good reason) are...interesting.**

_NO, SERA! Just… no. Don't go there. There is a very good reason this fic is labeled "Friendship" and rated T, not "Romance" and rated M! We promised no icky romance, remember? :(_

**Potato.**

_Oh, yeah, and Sera also wrote a random omake _**[during]**_ to go with this chapter. It starts after the part where Alfred thinks about letters to Kiku. So here, have some funny._

OMAKE! **by Sera (as you know) who got bored.**

Alfred tilted his head to the side, pondering the issue. When I write to Francis, Arthur, and Mattie, I can add a side note for Kiku.

Decided on this issue, he turned into a pony and flew away while Cody watched, utterly perplexed.

After a moment he flew back, a human arm clenched in his teeth, alighted on the ground, and morphed into a human again. He gave Cody a good knock on the head with the arm to clear out his memory of ponies. Then he proceeded to skip around the prone form dribbling blood in a circle and screeching evil demonic songs he'd learned from his brother (Arthur. Not Mattie. Why would Mattie know those things? Or maybe he does…? O.e).

Suddenly, in a whoosh of flame, all the lights went out and Sergeant Braginski's head popped out of the ground. "You called?"

Scarred for life, Alfred screamed, dropped the human arm, and ran back home. THE END :D


	11. Aquaintance

A/N: ***insert rainbow factory lyrics + image of oliver* Hehehehehehehehehe IN THE RAINBOW FACTORY ALL YOUR FEARS AND HORRORS COME TRUE~**

_… I'm not even going to ask…_

_That aside, both Sera and I are done with the in-class portion of driver's ed, which means more time to write! YAY! So expect punctual updates again_! **...maybe.**

* * *

Chapter 10: Acquaintance

* * *

Apparently, being sent to a relocation center entailed a lot of things. All his possessions had to be checked again before he packed them up. Kiku held his breath as Wilson rifled through the hoodie he'd pushed the photo back into, and as the agent glanced at the scroll, but both things passed inspection. He'd been forced to leave behind several assorted trinkets that held sentimental value but not much else.

After that, he and what he assumed to be the other people in the complex were herded outside and forced into the back of a trailer. The inside was spare, just faded green paint and a waist-level bench. Kiku hugged his bag to himself, and looked at the faces of the other 'guests'. With a pang, he noticed the children, playing a quick game of marbles in the corner, smiles on their pale faces. _Don't I have some marbles in here, somewhere?_

He turned and rifled through his duffel bag until he surfaced with the small pouch of marbles Kaoru had given him. With a slight smile, he bent down to the children, who watched him warily until he opened his hands and displayed the bright blue and red marbles he had. It didn't take long before they snatched up his marbles, arranged them in the circle among their dull, chipped counterparts, and began playing again with renewed vigor.

Kiku watched them play until a tugging on his pants alerted him to a small girl, short hair framing her elfin features. "Yes? What is it?"

She said nothing, just kept tugging on his pants until he bent down to her level. Then, she pointed at the crudely drawn circle, still silent.

"Would you like me to play with you?"

She nodded once, and Kiku sat down crosslegged and proceeded to lose himself in the intricacies of playing marbles with the children.

Two guards stepped onto the back of the trailer, their faces impassive. The children paused, gathered up their marbles, and retreated back to their parents, leaving Kiku to scrabble at the remaining marbles and then return to a dignified position. The little girl from earlier stood behind him, sucking her thumb.

A moment later, the trailer lurched into motion, causing the few people still standing to lose their balance, but those around them quickly helped them sit down.

There were a few windows on either side, and Kiku made his way over to one of them. As the scenery went by, his eyes searched for a familiar landmark, anything to remember for however long he would be gone for. Suddenly, his eyes caught a familiar figure. _Alfred…?_

But it wasn't Alfred. It was Matthew. The Canadian had a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a determined expression. He only briefly glanced at the trailer Kiku was in, but in that moment, something in his gaze unsettled the Japanese man. However, he couldn't tell what exactly it was that was causing such a strange feeling, and soon he chalked it up to nerves.

And then he was out of sight and they were on the main road, which was lined with people to watch them go. He peered out, hoping against hope that his family would be there.

At first, Kiku thought they were there to see them off, maybe wish them luck. And then the obscenities started. "You foolish people!" bellowed a man with large ears. "Why did you bomb us? Are your people so yellow they won't stop to fight?"

"My husband was in that harbor!" screeched a woman, shaking her fists at the trailer. "Where is he now?"

"You little whores!" thundered another. "Think you could marry my son, eh? Think again!" A small, terrified woman was pushed to the front of the crowd and almost shoved into the path of the carriage until a young man surged through the crowd and embraced her. Then it was a tug of war as a large man who Kiku assumed had originally spoken pulled her towards the street, while the younger man tried to keep her away.

He lost, and the petite woman was shoved up to the front, where an unseen agent looked her over, looked at the young man with tears streaming down his face, and then barked out a sharp order. Moments later, the trailer halted, the woman nearly thrown in, and then the sensation of movement again. The noise was deafening. The woman sobbed into her hands, and several people crowded around her, speaking soothingly in their native language. Their voices were nearly drowned out by the hate.

The insults mixed into a long, screaming rant of hot words. Wherever he looked, faces distorted with anger and hate glared back at him, their mouths spitting vile curses. It was like a vision of hell. And it just went on and on. Kiku had walked this road before, and had it really been this long? He didn't think so.

Around him, the people were wilting, curling in on themselves like fragile flowers exposed to heat. He noticed he himself had adopted that manner, and straightened up. His time with Alfred had given him a bit of a backbone.

One of the crowd hurled something, and redness splattered across his face. His hands flew to his eyes. _What is this? Am I bleeding?_ No, it was an overripe tomato, hitting the side of the trailer and smudging into his eyes. He wiped it away with one hand, only to duck as a barrage of items came flying at them, not all of them soft. A fist-sized rock came rattling through and hit a young man in the shoulder, drawing blood. A mango came sailing into the trailer and burst on their clothes.

_This can't be right,_ he thought wildly. _Wilson wouldn't willingly subject us to this._

Kiku scrambled to the front of the trailer and, taking a deep breath, shoved half his body through the window, angling himself towards the front carriage. "Sir!" he yelled, while the crowd jeered at him. Something hard hit him in the back of the head. "Sir!" he called again. The man driving angled his head towards the Japanese man. "Whaddya want, slag?" He had a southern twang that definitely wasn't Wilson's.

"This isn't safe, sir! We could get seriously hurt here!"

The man laughed nastily. "When they paid me, they didn't tell me to treat ya nice." He suddenly stomped on the accelerator, jerking the trailer and nearly making him fall out. "So it's no' my problem."

A group of adolescents suddenly ran up alongside the green trailer and grabbed onto him. "So you think you can fly, Jap?" they sneered as Kiku flailed at the air, only his legs keeping him inside the trailer. "Fly like a little birdie?"

They tugged at his arms and pounded their fists against his torso. "Do ya wanna try it?"

As Kiku prepared for impact with the asphalt, a sudden force on his legs pulled him all the way inside the trailer. Turning around, he saw the dark eyes of the children, led by the little girl.

"Arigato," he said, bowing slightly to them. The children dispersed, but the girl sat next to him when he sat down himself.

Kiku felt the back of his head where the hard thing had hit it, and his hands came away sticky. He winced.

Suddenly, the girl was in his lap, leaning up to look at the wound. Small fingers prodded the area, causing Kiku to gasp in pain. Worriedly, the little girl looked up at him with round, deep brown eyes.

"Ah… It's OK, it just surprised me a bit, that's all."

The little girl gave him a suspicious look, but said nothing.

They sat in silence for a time, while the crowd raged and frothed like waves slapping a boat. The trailer seemed to rock from the force of their anger.

To break the ropes of words whipping his back, he asked, "What's your name?"

She stretched out a short finger and sketched five characters in the dust on the ground: ジャスミン. _Jasmine_.

"Konnichiwa, Jasmine-chan," he said softly, and Jasmine smiled.

A while later, the crowds finally dissipated, and the trailer was able to continue on without too much trouble. Soon after, the trailer came to a halt, jolting the people inside around.

"What's going on?" Kiku asked a nearby man.

"I don't know, but this looks like the train station."

"Train station?" someone else asked. But no one had time to respond before the doors of the trailer were thrown open and a group of guards began to usher them out.

Kiku stood up, grabbed his bag, and prepared to get off before he noticed Jasmine still sitting there, her eyes trained on him.

"Jasmine? It's time to go. Where are your parents?"

Jasmine shook her head.

"You don't know? Do you want me to help you find them?"

She shook her head again.

Kiku frowned. "But you have to find them."

Jasmine merely looked up at him with immense sadness in her young eyes.

Kiku sighed. "Come with me, then. We have to get off now, I'll get you to them when we get on the train."

Jasmine hopped up and grabbed Kiku's hand, tugging him over to a small suitcase, which she picked up. Kiku immediately took it from her, slinging his bag over his shoulder so his other hand was free for her to grasp.

Together, they followed the stream of people from their trailer and a group of others into the station. Guards directed them into a train, and Kiku quickly found seats for himself and his new tag-along friend.

As the train rumbled to life, Kiku glanced out the window again._ Where are you, Yao, Yong Soo, Kaoru, Mei, Alfred? I hope you're safe… always._

He was brought out of his thoughts by a small warmth. He looked down to see Jasmine sitting diffidently on his foot.

"Ah, weren't we going to look for your parents?"

Jasmine merely blinked up at him. Kiku lifted her into his arms, but she squirmed to be released and he had to put her down again, lest he drop her on her head. "What's gotten into you?"

As he'd been beginning to expect, she said nothing, just shook her head and sat back down with a petulant little pout on her lips.

He sighed. "Come on, Jasmine, I can't take care of you forever."

She shook her head again and held herself stubbornly, tears glinting in her eyes.

Kiku sighed again, then reached down gently. "Come on, Jasmine-chan. Please?"

Reluctantly, Jasmine extended her hand and grasped Kiku's tightly. Together, they made their way down the aisle.

"Excuse me, do you know where this girl's parents are?" Kiku asked politely, in English and Japanese, as they passed each person. But no one could answer.

That is, nobody knew the answer. Most didn't even recognize Jasmine, let alone know who her parents were or where they were located. They passed through most of the train cars (at least, the ones he was permitted in) in this manner.

Then they came across the group of children from before. One little boy bounced up to them, tugging on Jasmine's hand.

"Jasmine, come play!"

Jasmine shook her head, pointing to Kiku, then herself, then pantomiming walking around.

The boy frowned. "He's taking you around? What for?"

"I'm helping her look for her parents. Do you know where they are?"

The boy frowned. "Jasmine doesn't have parents. Didn't you know? And you're not supposed to talk about that, anyways. C'mon, Jaz, let's go play marbles."

Jasmine buried her face against Kiku's leg.

The boy shook his head. "Suit yourself. See you later."

And with that, he left. Kiku could only gape after him. Then he leaned down and embraced the child clutching his pant leg.

"Jasmine-chan?"

Watery brown eyes peeked out between messy black bangs.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you. Watashi wa yakusoku shimasu."

* * *

As night fell, they finally arrived at their destination: a lonely, militaristic camp in a desert, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Kiku lifted a sleepy Jasmine into his arms.

"Jasmine? Can you hold your suitcase, so I can carry you?"

The little girl rubbed her eyes and nodded. Kiku handed her the suitcase, then slung his own bag over his shoulder, and joined the crowd getting off the train. As he stepped out the doors, he caught a few strange glances from some of the other passengers. Jasmine, too, seemed to notice these, and clung tighter to his neck.

"You. Over here." One of the guards beckoned Kiku over, and the Japanese man went to join the small crowd behind him. A man in a suit asked him for his name.

"Kiku Honda."

"And the girl?"

"Jasmine, ah…" Kiku looked over to the girl in his arms, who pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Kiku.

ジャスミン こどく, the paper read.

"Jasmine Kodoku."

The man nodded, writing their names down on his clipboard. "You'll be in building 84, section 5."

Kiku nodded, and the man left. Shifting Jasmine to a more comfortable position, he headed towards the building, opening the door softly and stepping inside.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the other occupants, he made his way down the narrow hall, coming to a stop before the small room that would be his and Jasmine's.

The room was barely large enough for two cots and a rickety old table. A single, bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling, a string dangling downwards from it. Kiku gave it a tug, bathing the room in the electric glow.

Jasmine looked around, her eyes wide, as Kiku said, "Well, I suppose it's not too bad."

He gently set her down on one of the cots, smiling as she curled up and fell asleep almost immediately. But Kiku himself was unable to sleep, and stared out the small window. Suddenly, he stood up and rummaged around in his bag, and brought out his pen and paper.

_Dear Alfred,_

He paused, tapping his lip with his finger. _This is a horrible idea_, he told himself. But he couldn't bring himself to crumple the paper up. Quickly, he set his pen tip back on the paper.

_How are you? I hope you have not been sent out to fight yet. For my sake, please do not be on the field. If only you could see this. Please, if they ever test you or train you or… whatever they do, fail purposely._

_But enough of that. I wanted to tell you about a little girl I met today. Her name is Jasmine, and she's an orphan. Alfred-kun, it's so sad. I don't know why, but she never talks, and I fear it's because of some trauma she might have endured. I just don't know what to do. I promised that I would always take care of her, but…_

_Alfred, I fear I might not be able to. She's all alone, and she's just so YOUNG. If I can't help her, then who will?_

_When they were transporting us to the relocation camps - we have to be relocated, I don't know if I told you - they pulled us through the street with the shops on it. Remember how we used to walk on it together? Now it was full of people screaming their hate at us. One poor woman actually was thrown on our trailer by an angry man. It was horrible. How could people who were once our friends have changed so much?_

_I hope you have had a better time of it, and that no one will persecute you for being friends with me._

_Best wishes,_

_Kiku_

* * *

A/N:

Translations: Watashi wa yakusoku shimasu (私は約束します。) - I promise

**Jasmine's last name (**_in kanji it's_ 孤独**) actually means 'loneliness'. By the way, we'd've probably have picked a more traditional Japanese name for her , but I know a young Japanese girl named Jasmine who so freaking adorable so I insisted we name our child Jasmine. In case you were wondering. **

_I'm not actually sure that they numbered the barrack-like buildings that the Japanese were sent to the way we wrote it, but bleh. More historical inaccuracies! YAY!_

**FAFU THE OSTRICH SAYS: "A BEETROOT! BUT IT'S STUCK IN THE GROUND!"**

***hums Kirby Gourmet Race music***

_No comment._

**You really should play that game. :3**

**\(^J^)/ Happy Russia asks you to review~**


	12. Airborne

A/N: _I think we never officially told you guys who the "nations in disguise" were… So… here goes!_

_Cody is, as is probably very obvious_ **(by now, I hope :)**_, Australia. Binh is male Vietnam (yes, we genderbent Vietnam), and Carlos is (OC) Mexico. Cody's dead younger brother is New Zealand (sorry, New Zealand!). His other siblings that were mentioned in the passing are Wy and Hutt River._

**And now for a preview into how we write these things. **

**Monday: Eh, we still have all week.**

**Tuesday: Let's add a few paragraphs.**

**Wednesday: AINT NOBODY GOT TIME FO DIS**

**Thursday: Let's add a sentence or so.**

**Friday: AAAH TWO DAYS TILL WE HAVE TO POST THIS GO GO GO**

**Saturday: KEEP GOING KEEP GOING KEEP GOING**

**Sunday: WE'RE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT**

**Sunday Evening: OKAY WE'RE DONE! YEAH! I mean unless we don't make it and then have to postpone it. We're sorry. **

_That's… basically right. Except it's more of Friday: WAAAAHHH! WE HAVE TWO DAYS AND LOADS OF HOMEWORK AND NO TIME AND WAAAAAAHHHH! Then Saturday: WAAAAAAHHH! WE DIDN'T WRITE ANYTHING ON FRIDAY BECAUSE WE SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY DOING HOMEWORK! GO GO GO GO! Then Sunday night: We… didn't finish it… *droop* Sorry._

**But when we don't finish we do our darndest to get it to you next week.**

* * *

Chapter 11: Airborne

* * *

That morning, Alfred got up and started to prepare for the usual morning run. Then he paused, remembering that he was part of a different group now.

A little thrill ran through him. He was part of a real squadron now. A small smile made it's way onto his face. _Oh, Mattie, Arthur, Francis… Kiku, if only you could see me now!_

"Hey, Jones. What're you standing there for?"

Alfred turned to find Cody, who was putting on his uniform, eyeing him strangely.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Well, you'd better hurry up and make your bed. Our new sergeant is coming for inspection at 0600 hours," Binh said as he walked in, fresh from the bathroom. Then he frowned, walking over to the other occupant of their room. "Hey, Carlos. Time to get up."

The Mexican in question groaned, throwing off his covers. "Nguyen, you never let a man sleep late!"

"Maybe so," Binh shrugged, "but I don't want to see you get punished."

Alfred smiled again as Carlos rolled out of bed, mumbling about "vietnamitas mandones".

"Dude, I think he just called you bossy," he said as he elbowed Binh.

The Vietnamese man shrugged. "Let him call me what he wants. He's the one who suffers if I don't get him up."

"Very true."

Footsteps signaled the sergeant's approach, and they scattered to their bedsides in time for the familiar features of the Russian to peek through the doorway. "Good morning~!"

"Sergeant Braginski?" Alfred blurted.

"Да," the man responded, stepping into the room. He quickly glanced over all of their beds. "Rodriguez, you were sloppy today."

"Lo siento, sir," Carlos responded, hanging his head.

"Make sure it does not happen again."

"Yes, sir."

"Good! Follow me." Braginski motioned to all of them, and they hurried to keep pace with him as he led them out of the building and onto the airfield. Soon, they came to a group of men already standing there, seemingly waiting around for the sergeant to return. They straightened as Braginski approached.

"These are your new squadron members," the Russian said without preamble, motioning to Alfred and his companions. "Don't kill them."

Scattered laughter was heard among the men as the four new recruits stepped forwards.

After a moment of awkward silence, Binh stepped forwards and shook the foremost man's hand. "Hello. I'm Binh Nguyen. It's nice to meet you."

"You too," the man responded, and that was the prelude to a round of handshakes and introductions. Alfred, Cody, and Carlos were quickly swept up in the tide as well, their new squadron shaking their hands and slapping them in the back, greeting them with smiles and kind words.

"Want to get your planes now?" asked one of the newly-introduced men.

"Do I ever!" Alfred was looking forward to this.

He was at the front of the group as they were guided back to one of the aircraft hangars, practically dancing out of his shoes. "You're a bit eager, aren't you?" said Carlos good-naturedly.

Alfred shrugged. "I think I've been waiting for this moment my entire life."

On the other side of him, Cody raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit dramatic?"

"Dramatic it may appear to be," said the American dramatically, "but the one thing I never am is _dramatic._" To which Cody raised his eyebrow still higher and Carlos laughed.

But then they were at the hangar, and Alfred stood on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of his beloved plane. "Can we choose them?" he asked loudly. "Because I want that one."

One of the newly-introduced men - his name was Justin Ramos - smiled. "Hasty, eh? Well, I admire your taste."

The other young men wandered around the hangar, but Ramos accompanied the American as he strolled leisurely towards the plane. "What type of plane is she?"

"A Curtiss P-40 Warhawk. Kind of an old one, but she performs marvelously."

The American ran his hand down the painted exterior as Ramos went on. "I've only had the honor of flying her a few times, but she handles real well."

"If you say so." Alfred listened with one ear to Ramos' observations about the plane while imagining flying in it.

Ramos grinned. "You'll love her," he said with finality, patting Alfred on the back. "Come on, I'll show you how to get your paperwork done."

In his head, Alfred was already running through the list of names he'd come up with for the plane. _Skybomber? No, too cheesy. Aeroknight? Too unwieldy. _

It was only later, when he was filling his name out and scratching his signature over the release forms, that it came to him. A bright epiphany, a sparkling thread of thought that almost seemed to come from somewhere else, another time, another dimension. He laughed to himself at the very thought.

_Stormwalker. It's perfect. _

It fit every aspect of the plane, from the somewhat faded shark's face to the sleek-seeming aspect.

Stormwalker.

* * *

Alfred laughed out loud, coming out of the loop. He quickly rejoined the formation, grinning as cheers came through his headset. Even with only a little less than a month of training, he was already confident in his control of his aircraft.

"Good job, Jones," Cody said grudgingly as Alfred let his training plane fall into place next to the Australian's.

"Haha! Told you I could do it!" Alfred replied. He was sure Cody could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah, can it, stupid."

"Hey, you promised not to call me that!"

"I did no such thing!"

"Yes you di-"

"Stop it, you two," Binh cut in. "You're hogging the radio."

"Да, shut up or you'll be on latrine duty tomorrow," Sergeant Braginski said, somewhat less politely.

Both Alfred and Cody shut up.

Soon, the training flight was over and the squadron gently set down on the landing strip. Almost bouncing in excitement, Alfred hopped out of the cockpit and ran toward Cody, grinning all the way.

"See! I did it!"

"OK, you did it! Jeez, will you never stop?" the Australian wondered aloud.

"Nope!" Alfred smiled.

Cody let out a loud, exasperated sigh, then shook his head and headed toward the building. Just as Alfred was about to follow, Carlos reached out and grabbed him.

"Alfred, stop it."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, I can already tell it's going to get extremely annoying, not only to Cody, but to us as well. So stop. Otherwise I'll set Braginski on you."

Braginski, seemingly able to sense that Carlos had invoked his name, smiled in their direction. Alfred shivered.

"Fine."

"Good. Now, aren't you forgetting something?"

Alfred looked blank. Then realization dawned.

"I'm missing lunch!"

"And there he goes," Carlos said to Binh, who sighed.

"It's Alfred, what would you expect?"

The two smiled at each other and followed after their sprinting friend at a much slower pace.

* * *

That night, after his daily shower, Alfred headed to the mail room to drop off his latest letter home, and to pick up anything that might have come for him.

"Let's see… Jones… Ah! Here you go." The secretary at the desk gave him a smile as she handed over a few letters. "You're in luck, the mail just arrived."

"Thank you," Alfred responded, smiling back. As he walked to his room, he flicked through the letters. A letter from Matthew, dated about two weeks before… a letter from Yong Soo, Kaoru, and Mei from about three weeks ago… A letter from Arthur and Francis from around the same time… _Wow, I haven't checked my mail in a long time… _And another letter from Arthur, sent about a few days ago.

Shrugging, Alfred ripped open the letter from the Asians as he climbed onto his bunk and scanned over it. _Nothing new,_ Alfred thought. It was just some random stuff that had happened, and a mention that Kiku was alright, but hadn't been allowed to go home yet. Alfred, of course, knew from rumors that all the Japanese had been relocated, and had been upset by it, but it was old news now.

The letter from Arthur and Francis said basically the same things. However, Matthew's letter was a bit strange.

_Dear Alfred,_

_I've missed you, are you alright? I hope everything is going well for you. I do wonder, what is it like, being in the military? I wish- well, I won't trouble you with that. I know you probably have much to do right now, and shouldn't worry about me._

_Al, I've been thinking a lot lately about Francis's experiences. You know, during the Great War? From what he's always told us, it's a horrible thing, but I can't help but wonder what exactly it's like. You'll experience it firsthand soon, I suppose._

_Anyways, a few days ago, one of my friends brought up the idea of a trip to Canada. I think it would be a great idea, to visit the land of my nationality. If we do go, we'll be setting out a week and a half from now, on the 25th of March. Just thought I'd tell you._

_Your brother,_

_Matthew_

Alfred frowned. It wasn't like Matthew to make such random decisions like going to Canada, or to think too long and hard about Francis's past. As a child, Alfred had always needed to be restrained by his twin from asking Francis too many questions.

So what brought about the change?

Distracted, Alfred opened the last letter, skimming over the hastily written note without really taking in what it said.

Then he stopped seeming to finally absorb the information, and fumbled in the envelope, drawing out another paper, this time seemingly ripped out of a notebook. Frantic blue eyes scanned over the lines of symbols once, twice, three times…

A gasp tore itself from his throat, and both papers drifted down gently to the ground.

* * *

_Dear Alfred,_

_Matthew's gone. I don't know when he left, or how, or why, or even where he went, but he left a note for you. I can't read it, and neither can Francis. I'm assuming it's in the code you two developed years ago, and that you will tell us what it says._

_Francis is searching for him now, and I am about to go out as well. Please, if you know where he went, tell us IMMEDIATELY._

_-Arthur_

* * *

_Alfred-_

_I've decided. I'm going to join the Canadian Armed Forces. Wish me luck._

_Matthew_

* * *

A/N:

Translations:

vietnamitas mandones - bossy Vietnamese

lo siento - sorry

**I'm dying over what I named the plane. DYING I SAY. I SHALL NOT EXPLAIN THE REFERENCE *laughs manically* **

_Don't ask me, I have no idea. *shrugs*_

**On other notes, I had way too much fun looking up the different types of planes they flew. Also, America's plane was actually mentioned in the anime. Remember the plane he made awesome by giving it a **_(rather evil looking, in my opinion)_ **face? THAT'S THE ONE. **

_Except then England dissed it. Phooey._

**Review! :D**


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